


the halocline

by nappeuns



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Discussion of Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Alternating, everything is connected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nappeuns/pseuds/nappeuns
Summary: there was so much still to talk about, but the universe could wait for them, now. for now, holding onto each other, warm and steady in each others’ arms, was enough.a story about how nine people, spread across the galaxy, are somehow all connected.(this is our home, this is our only way.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 74
Collections: STRAY KIDS BIGBANG: 2020





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my artist for this lovely art that you can find [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1FbvXuRJ9cnILq1LhJLvLBeo52ts9PM_n/view?usp=sharing)!
> 
> i think we all need to recognize off the bat that this fic is comparable in length to the fault in our stars by john green, and that, despite not having stars in the title, this has a lot more to do with stars than that book. this is a space au i came up with back in 2014 (yes, that long ago, i wish i was kidding), and after changing fandoms several times, quitting writing, rejoining writing, and reworking countless times, it has finally been put out into the universe (no pun intended on the space thing, there.)
> 
> a few things to note: the Capital is a planet that's pretty much one massive city divided into two parts (lower and upper), and is essentially supposed to be earth. if you read someone referring to the Capital, they're referring to an entire planet. also, all of the other planets are real, actual planets that exist in the universe, but i've kind of hodge podged the layout of the known universe to fit my agenda so... please don't think too hard about the terminology and astronomy, just know i did at least some research for this fic ahaha. also, the scenes portrayed in this fic aren't perfectly chronological, although all of the individual parts are in chronological order so... don't think too had about the timeline either LOL
> 
> this fic is pretty dark, and features lots of discussions of death in many forms and for many reasons. lots of bad things happen to people in this fic, but it's got a good and hopeful ending, i promise. i've tagged major/general warnings, but if you're worried about any specific triggers, i'll pop my cc in here after reveals and you can drop me a message for a more thorough, not spoiler-free warning lol.
> 
> title of the fic and part of the summary is from the halocline by hippo campus, which i recommend listening to while reading in general, but especially during part four. you'll see why.
> 
> and on that note, our journey begins.

"Minho," Jisung whined, fiddling with some controls on the ship's panel, buttons blinking and lighting up under his quick fingers. "Our landing gear isn't working."

"What do you mean, isn't working?" the other man asked, peeking his head out from the entrance to the cargo hold underneath the ship. If Jisung had been looking behind him, the younger man probably would have laughed at the sight of Minho's head and nothing else sticking out between the floor panels of the pilot's bay, but as it stood, his gaze was fixed on the buttons and switches in front of him. "We just got it fixed not too long ago."

"I mean it's not working," Jisung replied, jamming a button a few more times to no avail. He sat back with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head; Minho's eyes automatically dropped to the small bit of tanned, toned torso that was put on display as his shirt rode up, before ducking back down into the cargo bay hurriedly. "The panels won't open so I can't deploy the landing gear. Someone must have shot it out on that last planet we went to."

Minho cursed from within the cargo hold, and Jisung glanced over his shoulder at the entrance. "I thought I felt us take a hit when I was flying us out, but I was hoping I was wrong," he called back up through the floor, and Jisung hummed.

"You should have told me," Jisung called back haughtily, getting up off his chair to move towards the opening in the floor. "We could have stopped on a nearby planet or something for me to try and fix it, but now we're halfway to our destination without anything else nearby to stop on." He got down onto the floor to stick his head into the cargo hold, hanging through it upside down. Through the darkness, he could just make out Minho arranging the crates they had stolen, the firearms inside clanging around noisily every time Minho shifted them. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, thick forearms on display as he hefted the boxes around. "Hot," Jisung called cheekily, only half joking.

"You're blocking the light," Minho grumbled, and Jisung laughed as he pulled himself out of the cargo hold. A few seconds later, Minho emerged, climbing out of the cargo hold with practiced ease and affixing the panel back into the floor. Jisung watched him work from his spot on the floor, a small smile growing on his face at how used to this Minho was. It was Minho's ship after all— though so many parts had been repaired or replaced that it could hardly be considered the same ship that Minho had bought all those years ago— and the pilot had so spent many years living on it alone that he knew all the ins and outs of it without putting much thought into it. The same couldn't be said for Jisung, who had been living on the ship with Minho for less than two years, but— well. Jisung wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and there was always time to learn.

"Hey," Minho said, and Jisung startled out of his daze, realizing he had been staring. Minho was now looking at him with those wide, cat-like eyes of his, furrowing his brows as Jisung startled. "Spacing out again?"

Jisung laughed nervously, then gestured towards the window at the front of the ship, where a sprawling expanse of deep space looked back at them. "Aren't we always spacing out?" he asked lamely, then laughed as Minho rolled his eyes with an exasperated yet fond grin.

Minho opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something, but a blaring alarm suddenly emitted from the ship's control panel, one of their radar's screens flashing red. Minho seemed to launch himself from the floor into the pilot's seat, hands flying to the console, and Jisung hardly had time to scramble to his own seat before Minho was yanking back the controls, sending them careening back and to the left to avoid the small ship that had been catapulting towards them from the side.

Jisung let out a pained noise as Minho righted the ship, rubbing where his hipbone had slammed into the side of his seat when the pilot had pulled the ship to the side. Minho was silent save for the sound of his panicked breaths slowing as he turned to look after the ship that had nearly hit them, staring through the window over the control panel.

"What the hell  _ is _ that?" he asked after a moment, standing up and leaning over the panel, back arching as he tried to get a better look. Jisung trained his eyes on the retreating ship so as to not look at the curve of Minho's spine, getting up as well to stand next to Minho.

"Looks like an escape pod," he said thoughtfully, still rubbing his hip with one hand as he moved to right the fallen, framed picture of Minho's mother that was a permanent decoration to their dashboard. Minho looked over his shoulder at him, and Jisung didn't miss the way his gaze softened when he saw Jisung fixing the old-fashioned picture frame. "No clue what planet it might be from, but I'm pretty sure it's an escape pod."

Minho let out a sigh as he sat back down in the pilot's seat, slouching in the chair. "Must be why it nearly crashed into us, usually those things aren't meant to be piloted," he mumbled, as Jisung came to perch on the arm of the chair. He put his hand on Jisung's knee, the weight of it heavy even through the thick and baggy material of Jisung's own pants, and Jisung glanced at him curiously. "Should I be upset that you know what an escape pod looks like?" he asked belatedly, and Jisung gave him a wry smile.

"How else do you think I ended up on that worthless desert planet you found me on?" he asked rhetorically, then laughed at the displeased noise Minho let out. He shifted off the arm of the chair to slide into Minho's lap, even though he knew that the older man hated when Jisung did that, just so he could rest his head against Minho's shoulder. Despite Minho's initial reluctance at the contact, one of his hands still moved to rest, warm and gentle, on Jisung's waist, and Jisung hummed, pleased.

"Whatever, it's behind me now," Jisung reassured, though he know that it wasn't so simple— his hands were still calloused and scarred from the work he'd done mining in that desert, and the skin on his back and shoulders was still discoloured and rough from the severe sunburns he'd gotten in the heat. It didn't bother him as much as it used to, but it still weighed on his mind sometimes, all of the parts of him that were marred by his past.

Thankfully, Minho never seemed to mind— and as if seeming to sense that Jisung was getting lost in thought, the pilot squeezed his waist gently, pulling him closer against his body. Jisung looked up at Minho with raised eyebrows, but the older's eyes were closed, seemingly relaxed with Jisung's weight in his lap.

"Let's just drop those blasters off at the meeting point, then head to the Capital," he mumbled, and with his eyes closed, Jisung was able to watch his lips move in close proximity. "We'll get Hyunjin to fix our landing gear and I'll treat you to a nice dinner with whatever money we have left from this job."

Jisung beamed unashamedly at Minho's offer— the older man was kind, but not the type to go too far out of his way for others, so this was a real treat. He pressed his face into Minho's shoulder, curling his lithe body into him.

"Let's get hot pot," he murmured happily, and grinned at Minho's responding hum.

* * *

Chan hit the ground hard as he fell, feeling his skin scrape as it dragged across the rock and dirt. Still, he couldn't stop moving— he simply grit his teeth and heaved himself up, taking off in a sprint again. Through the racket of his heartbeat pounding in his lungs, he heard the sound of blasters being fired off behind him, the shouts of people being killed— being  _ murdered _ , his mind supplied, and it took everything in him to not turn back around. Not that there would be much Chan could do even if he turned around— his father's shouts as he burst into Chan's room were still ringing in his mind.

"They took Felix," his father had said as he took Chan by the shoulders, pushing him to the window in his room hurriedly. "You have to get out,  _ now _ , there are escape pods behind City Hall, if you get there fast enough—"

Chan ducked as a shot from a blaster hit the wall above his head, shaking himself out of the memory and trying to sprint even faster. His parents were probably dead now. His brother, Felix, might be dead too. There was nothing to turn back for. All he could do was try to save his own life.

City Hall wasn't far now; Chan could see it down the road, a low, single story building decorated with the flag of their planet and the flag of his people's region. All it would take was a few more solid seconds of sprinting, and he would—

He saw the spray of blood from his own shoulder before he felt the pain, but when the pain hit, it was all he could do to keep running. He clutched his shoulder, feeling the slip of blood on his skin, the divot in his flesh from where the blast had grazed him. Another shot flew past him, hitting the front of City Hall and exploding into flame and sparks, and Chan finally registered the sound of heavy, boot-clad footsteps pounding after him.

He swerved wildly as he sprinted with all his might for City Hall, ducking at random intervals to try and avoid shots. He could see the shots flying past him, hear the footsteps from behind him, but thankfully, Chan seemed to be just fast enough. He hauled himself on powerful legs along the edge of the building, and when he rounded the corner, he was greeted by the sight of three escape pods, thankfully unguarded.

He threw himself into one, tumbling in ungracefully as he heard the person chasing him shouting in anger. Chan slammed his foot into the button to close the hatch, then scrambled through the small craft to the front, hitting the button marked 'launch' before he was even in a seat.

The ship rocked slightly as whoever had been chasing him shot at it, but their blaster wasn't enough to penetrate the tough metal exterior of the pod. Chest heaving, nearly wheezing with how out of breath he was, Chan watched through the small window on the side of the pod as it rose into the air, his ruined home growing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

Without the rising and setting of the sun, it was easy for Chan to lose track of how much time he had spent in space.

He'd set an immediate course away from his planet, but he'd never been a pilot by trade and his navigational sense of the galaxy was lackluster at best— all Chan had been able to do was steer the pod on a steady trail forward, then set it to autopilot, hoping he would run into an inhabited planet or space station sooner or later. The more pressing issue was the complete lack of food and water in the craft, and the steady stream of blood flowing from his shoulder. He'd taken his shirt off painfully, tied it tight around his shoulder as a makeshift bandage, but the wound was deep and a piece of cloth would only do so much to stem the bleeding and heal the wound. Chan tried to sit still and relax, but the pain from his shoulder seemed to radiate through his body, and there was no way to quiet the maelstrom in his mind.

His family was gone. His city was gone. All the people, the places, the things he had known and loved— gone. His peaceful region of the planet, wanting desperately to break from the totalitarian regime of his planet's money-hungry government, trying to establish themselves as an independent state— gone. All of it gone in a matter of hours, except for his bloodied body alone in an escape pod, hurtling across the galaxy to who knows where.

Chan let out a shuddering breath as a wave of pain coursed through his body. He, too, might be gone soon, if he couldn't find a place to land and get help.

It seemed like months that Chan was in the escape pod for— but in reality, it couldn't have been much longer than a day— when another planet finally came into view.

Even from space, Chan could tell that the planet was populated between the lush green that coated it— one side of the planet, hidden from the light, lit up with the speckled sparks of cities. Drawing upon what remained of his strength, Chan leaned towards the console and heaved the handle, steering the ship on a straight course towards the planet.

Unfortunately, as the escape pod approached the planet, Chan realized he had no idea how to work the landing gear, and his mind was too hazy from exhaustion, dehydration and blood loss to figure it out. He sat in the seat as he watched the ground grow closer, his body weak.

At least, if this is how he died, it would be quicker than bleeding out in space.

The pod smashed into the ground, dragging a deep crater into the lush grass as it slid and skidded to a stop in the earth. Chan would have been thrown from his seat were it not for the belt keeping him in place— as it stood, he was still rattled painfully, his head smacked and dragged against the back and sides of the seat and his pelvis and spine slamming roughly into the seat as the pod hit the ground. But somehow... The pod held together. It didn't fall apart, or go up in flames. Chan was alive.

Chan was alive.

Dizzy, aching and disoriented, Chan managed to free himself from the belts holding him to the seat. He stood up, nearly falling over again as the shift made the lacking amount of blood left in his body rush away from his head, his vision spotting black as he tried to stumble towards the hatch. After a few weak smacks of his bloodied palm along the wall, he found the button, and the hatch opened with a whirr, fresh air smelling strongly of earth rushing in as Chan gasped desperately.

With the last of his energy, Chan clawed his way out of the shuttle, climbing out of the crater it left behind to lay on the thick, dewy grass. His vision spotted again against the sun, shapes dancing in his eyes and leaving him blinded. He turned his face into the grass, but it didn't help any— things were murky now, his vision blurred, and the sound of voices approaching him sounded like they were reaching his ears from underwater.

The last thing he saw in his swimming vision was a pair of brown boots stepping through the grass towards him, before his vision went completely, blissfully black.

* * *

Woojin looked up when a knock sounded on the door to his study, the sound echoing throughout the grand room. "Your Highness," an attendant called across the room, her head peeking through the wooden doorway. Woojin recognized her as a nurse on the royal staff, no doubt one of the people working with the young man who had crash-landed on their planet a few days ago. "The man has woken up."

"I'm glad to hear it," the prince called back, setting aside the documents he had been reading. "I'll go see him shortly."

The woman left and Woojin stood from his desk, organizing nearly the books and documents that were spread across the surface. On the cover of one, the name Luyten gleamed, embossed onto the leathery front in gold. Woojin was thankful that his staff had been able to identify the planet the man had come from by the flag emblazoned on the side of the pod— he’d been able to look into its history in order to try and begin to make sense of whatever situation led the man to crash land on Woojin’s planet. At first, he hadn’t been sure what to think— his own planet of Gliese was quite far from the one the man had come from, in the opposite direction of most of the main hub planets within the galaxy. The prince had been worried as to whether the pod had landed on his planet as any sort of intentional hit, versus an accident— it was hard to intentionally land on something in the outer reaches of the galaxy— but thankfully, careful inspection of the pod and the man within it had determined that it was likely an accident. There hadn't been any real navigation set up within the pod, no programmed destination from what they had been able to discern, just a steady, straight flight across the galaxy without an end point. Furthermore, the doctors on Woojin’s staff had determined the man was injured before he entered the pod, citing a wound from a gun on the man’s arm as their evidence. 

Besides, Woojin realized that there wasn't any real reason for a pod to intentionally crash onto his planet in the first place. For centuries, the planet of Gliese had been regarded as one of absolute peace, largely due to their lack of involvement in shaping and controlling both the intergalactic economy and politics. There was nothing to gain from the man crashing on Woojin’s planet, especially considering the planet the man had come from in the first place. Luyten was a powerhouse within the galaxy, the vast majority of the planet industrialized for economic production, other than a small, independently governed region on the southern side of the planet. Considering the man’s injuries and the circumstances of his crash, the prince and his staff had concluded that the most likely explanation was that the man inside had launched himself out to space in the pod in an attempt to escape, and it had just so happened to steer towards Woojin’s planet.

The question now, Woojin pondered, as he made his way to where the man as being held, was what was he escaping from?

When woojin entered the room, the man lifted his head from the bed, his eyes a bit wide. He looked much better than he had when Woojin had first found him sprawled across the grassy plains near the castle; the dirt and blood had been cleaned off of him, and his wounds had been bandaged. Now that the man had had a chance to recover slightly, Woojin could see that he was quite handsome, fit and masculine. His hair was a shade of blond so light that it was nearly white, falling in loose waves across his forehead and over his ears.

"Hello," Woojin said as he crossed the room to approach him. The man managed a nod, and Woojin appreciated the painful effort— the man had bruises and abrasions along one side of his face and neck following the crash landing, and Woojin could see the man wince as he moved his head. A chair had already been prepared for Woojin next to the bed; he sat in it as a few of his attendants filled in other spaces in the room. The prince could see one holding a recording device, no doubt collecting evidence in case something went awry during the conversation, and the man looked at it warily, clearly uncomfortable. Woojin redirected the man's attention back to himself by placing a hand gently on the bed. "Could you tell us your name?"

"I'm... My name is Chris," the man said slowly. His eyes kept looking nervously between Woojin and the other people in the room, looking uncertain as to what was going on. "You can just call me Chan."

Woojin put on his best, gentle, prince-like smile, nodding encouragingly as he spoke. "Chan, you're very lucky," he began, watching as Chan's eyebrows slowly furrowed, his expression turning into confusion. "You survived a crash landing onto our planet in nothing but a small pod. It's amazing that you weren't more seriously hurt."

Chan looked at him for a few more moments, before he shook his head slowly, his eyes dancing around the room again. "I'm... Lucky?" he asked uncertainly, and Woojin watched with mounting concern as Chan shook his head again faster, his head dropping until he was looking at himself, the bed he was on. "No," he clarified, and with it came a bark of laughter, so sudden and sad sounding that it nearly made Woojin jump. "No, I'm—  _ fuck _ , I'm not lucky at all."

Woojin was confused. He figured Chan had jumped into that pod and crashed on his planet to escape something— to save himself. He'd survived a crash that very well could have killed him. Was he intending on dying in the crash? "Why?" Woojin pressed, shifting a bit closer to take a good look at Chan. Other than his injuries, there was nothing that indicated whatever Chan had escaped from. "What happened?"

Chan raised a shaky hand to his shoulder, his fingers hovering around the wound there. "I need you to help me," he said, voice quaking. "On my planet, my people..."

The door shut behind Woojin with a quiet click, though the sound seemed to reverberate throughout the halls of the castle, throughout Woojin's mind. The light outside had grown dim in the time that it had taken Chan to explain everything to Woojin, choking back tears with every word. The other man had been exhausted by the end, the emotions taking their physical toll, and when Woojin finally left, Chan had been falling back to sleep, tear tracks on his face.

It was terrible, what had happened. If Chan was telling the truth, his friends, his family— everyone he knew had been victim to a genocide. And for what? Power? Money? The thought made Woojin sick. His planet's relations with Luyten had never been particularly strong, despite Luyten being considered one of the economic centres of the galaxy; his planet prided themselves on being highly self-sustaining, using products of the lush forests and wetlands that coated the planet to support their people. He knew, though, that Chan's planet had plenty of internal and external conflict— power hungry people in office turned the planet into a dictatorship, and their economic power only amplified their ability to manipulate and control. The small, self-governing region that Woojin had read about— the region that Chan was from— had refused to bend to their will, despite threats of force from the government. But still, Woojin never thought anything could get to this point.

The prince clasped his shaking hands together in front of him.

"Your Highness," one of his attendants— the one who had been recording the conversation— spoke up. Woojin didn't look at her. "What should we do? What that man has told us, it's..."

"We have to inform the Capital," Woojin said simply. Around him, his attendants tittered. Woojin looked at them, and they fell silent. "We can't let this go unnoticed. The people behind this need to be held accountable."

There was silence among his attendants for a few moments, before Woojin heard one clear their throat. When the prince turned, he realized it was his advisor— an old, greying, weathered man who had worked for Woojin's father before Woojin rose to the throne. "Your Highness," he began, and Woojin tried his best to keep his face impassive. "With all due respect, I'm not sure if that is advisable."

Woojin had to work hard to keep the frustration that boiled up in him at bay, though he did straighten his posture, chin up and shoulders back. "And why," he began, "would seeking justice for a genocide not be advisable?"

Woojin noticed that none of his other attendants were looking at him, all of them pretending not to hear the conversation. His advisor, however, looked at him head on. Woojin had never cared too much for his status as a prince, but in that moment, he felt a twinge of annoyance at the disrespect. "Your Highness, our planet has made a point not to get involved in any outsider conflict," his advisor pointed out. "To do so now and risk making an enemy— and out of a planet so powerful, at that— would jeopardize our planet's safety."

"And what do you have to say for the safety of the people who were killed?" Woojin questioned hotly. He had never liked his advisor anyways. "Should we stay quiet, when— if Chan's story is true— hundreds of innocent people may have lost their lives?"

"It is an unfortunate situation," his advisor continued stoically, "but it is not our responsibility. Your father would have—"

"I am not my father," Woojin interjected angrily. Finally, his words seemed to connect with his advisor, and the man looked down in deference. Woojin took a steadying breath to regain his composure, then turned to make his way back to his study.

"Please inform the government of the Capital of the situation on my behalf," the prince said over his shoulder. Even though his advisor wasn't following, Woojin knew he was listening— he had to, no matter his feelings towards the prince. "And request a meeting among all planets, urgently. Arrange for travel to the Capital, as well. I will not let this planet remain silent any longer."

* * *

"Cat's Paw Nebula?" Jeongin said quizzically, typing things onto the translucent screen of his tablet. He set it flat onto the bartop after a few moments, and a hologram of the surrounding nebula projected upwards from it, which he spun with a flick of his finger. "What are you going out there for?"

"For vacation," Changbin remarked drily, watching Jeongin zoom into an area, then zoom out and flick the map around again. Jeongin paused, looking at Changbin with disbelief, and the older man sighed. "I'm  _ kidding _ ," he clarified, and Jeongin let out a little  _ oh _ before zooming in on the map again. "I'm going for work, what else?"

Jeongin let out a little laugh, moving the hologram about for a few more seconds before stopping. "Of course, our Changbinnie will never take a vacation~" he said teasingly, then cackled when Changbin swatted at him with an amused smile.

"Brat," Changbin muttered affectionately, picking his drink up off the bar and taking a slow sip. Jeongin grinned widely.

"A brat who's the best navigator this side of the galaxy," Jeongin said proudly, then pushed the tablet a bit closer to Changbin, the hologram wavering for a moment with the movement before refining again. "Okay, what planet?"

Changbin pulled out a tablet of his own, tapping the screen until he was able to pull up his messages. He squinted as he tried to figure out how to pronounce the name on his screen. "Barajeel?" he said uncertainly, showing the screen to Jeongin so he could get a look at how it was spelled. "Near Sharjah, apparently."

Jeongin let out a noise of understanding when he saw the name, going back to the hologram. "I know where that is," he murmured, dragging the hologram this way and that as he tried to locate the planet. He let out another laugh when he heard Changbin mutter, "Of course you do."

"Okay, there," Jeongin said proudly, finishing messing with the hologram. When Changbin leaned in closer, he could see the steely gray planet of Barajeel, a thin, white line showing its orbit around its star, Sharjah. "And you're heading there directly from here?"

Changbin nodded, sitting back in his chair and taking another sip of his drink. "Yep," he confirmed, and Jeongin immediately started putting more information into his tablet to map out the route. "The guy said it's time sensitive, so I need to be fast. I'm gonna head out tonight, probably."

Jeongin let out a low hum, a smile spreading across his face. "Express is gonna cost you extra~" he sang, laughing when Changbin groaned.

"Fine, you scammer," he said begrudgingly, tapping through his phone to get to his accounts. Jeongin didn't deny the jab. "How much is it?"

A few more clicks, and Jeongin sat back in the seat. "Sent you the invoice," he said cheerfully, pulling a knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. "When you pay, the route will be copied to your tablet automatically."

Changbin let out a contemplative noise, nodding. He opened up the invoice when it flashed on his screen and let out a sigh when he saw the price. "Is this how you afford all these tech upgrades?" he asked, wounded as he transferred the credit from his account to Jeongin's. "Extortion?"

"Hey, there are other navigators you can go to!" Jeongin said innocently, before he grinned again, fiendish. "But there's no one who will keep your secrets like me."

"Again, you are a  _ brat _ ," Changbin complained, opening the route when it was transferred to him, "but you are one hell of a navigator. Thanks, kid."

"Anytime!" Jeongin chirped brightly. "For a price, of course. But still, anytime!"

Suddenly, Changbin's tablet screen lit up, and his face darkened when he saw what the call was. "Looks like someone else is requesting my services," he told Jeongin, who watched with a pout as Changbin stood up, downing the rest of his drink quickly. "Catch you later, kiddo."

"Happy travels!" Jeongin called, waving after Changbin's retreating form for a few moments before he sighed and put his arm down. Before he could get up to head home, though, a drink was put down in front of him, and he looked up in shock to find Hyunjin's handsome face smiling at him as he slid into the seat Changbin had just vacated. "Busy business?" his friend asked, and Jeongin shrugged, plucking the drink off the counter happily.

"Usual client. I can't complain," Jeongin answered, taking a sip of the drink Hyunjin had brought him. He hummed pleasedly, the sweet taste blooming on his tongue, followed by a sour punch at the end. "Mm. My favourite."

Hyunjin grinned, taking a slow drink from his own glass. "I know, I'm the best friend ever," he gloated, gesturing dramatically and making Jeongin giggle. He leaned in to poke Jeongin in the chest, then, raising his eyebrows. "And  _ you're _ going to be the best friend and help me pick out someone to talk to in this bar. I trust your taste."

"The taste of someone with no relationship experience?" Jeongin said quizzically, then snickered when Hyunjin looked away, pretending not to hear him. "Okay, okay," he acquiesced, looking around the bar for a few moments before nodding his head at a girl sitting a couple seats away from him. "Her?"

Hyunjin leaned over to take a peek at the girl, before frowning and shaking his head. "I've talked to her before," he commented, shifting in his seat. "Didn't go well." Jeongin winced. "Another?"

Jeongin peered around a bit more, then nodded his head to a guy, tall and well-built, who was currently on the dance floor of the club. "Him?" he suggested. "Looks like a good dancer."

Hyunjin studied the man for a few moments, before his face crinkled and he let out a disapproving noise. "Nah, not my type, he's too muscle-y," he complained, pouting at Jeongin. "Come on, find me someone good."

"I told you, I have no experience," Jeongin groaned, then kicked at Hyunjin's leg when the other man mocked him. As Hyunjin whined about how Jeongin got his pants dirty, the younger man took a long, hard look around the bar, eventually settling on a well dressed young man sitting by himself across the dance floor.

"Him," Jeongin said determinedly, and Hyunjin looked over, squinting to try and see in the dim lights of the club. "He's alone, doesn't look like he's waiting for anyone, and he's handsome. Go talk to him."

Hyunjin seemed to contemplate it for a few moments, before his face lit up and he pat Jeongin on the shoulder. "Have I ever told you I love you?" he asked, then hopped off the stool, Jeongin's bright laughter following him as he crossed the dance floor.

This sort of situation wasn't foreign to Hyunjin, not in the slightest. Anyone who knew the mechanic knew he was no stranger to— well, strangers, when it came to meeting new people and starting up conversation. He'd always been a people person, empathetic, curious by nature, and it translated into his day job and what he got up to after hours. Working as a mechanic, he got to meet all sorts of strange folk that passed through his shop. Hyunjin was good at keeping secrets, which net him a varied clientele, and he knew when not to ask questions— if someone came through his shop with a ship peppered in blaster holes, Hyunjin would simply fix it with a smile. And the handsome payout usually received for his silence helped support him outside of work, allowing him to become a regular face at the clubs and bars littered in the Lower Capital, far away from the glitz and glamour of the rich upper half of the planet. Away from prying eyes, all sorts of oddities came out to play, and Hyunjin loved finding all the peculiarities that usually stayed hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the Lower Capital, now exposed on the dance floor.

As he got closer to the man Jeongin had pointed out to him, he couldn't help but smile around the rim of his drink. Jeongin was right, the man was handsome— dressed smart, probably too smart for somewhere like this, shirt tucked neatly into his pants and glasses perched on his nose. He was obviously here to try to meet someone, if the way he was looking at the people on the dance floor was any indication, but the nervous edge of his shoulders let Hyunjin know that he was probably too nervous to approach anyone himself. Not a problem for Hyunjin, though— he'd never had any trouble making the first move.

"Hi," Hyunjin said when he was nearly directly in front of the man. He startled at the sound of Hyunjin's voice, so much so that a bit of the drink in his hands sloshed over the rim of the glass and down his knuckles, and Hyunjin let out a breezy laugh as the man's face flushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry to startle you," he said apologetically, shifting his weight to one leg. "I just wanted to ask... Is the seat next to you taken?"

* * *

Seungmin hadn't really known what to expect when a handsome stranger had approached him earlier, but ending up halfway to tipsy on a dance floor was definitely not it.

The stranger— Hyunjin, he had soon learned— wasn't just attractive, but decent conversation as well. He was flirtatious, that much was obvious; it seemed to radiate off of Hyunjin in waves, every action charged with an extra undercurrent of energy, from the way he tilted his head as he asked Seungmin about his job to the way his eyes seemed to be unable to stop themselves from giving Seungmin once-overs every couple seconds. It flustered Seungmin at first, the eyes of someone so attractive on him, but Hyunjin had been quick to soothe his obvious anxiousness. "Don't worry, I'm not judging you or anything," he had assured, laughing and putting a hand on Seungmin's knee. Seungmin's eyes were trained to his lips, pulled in a smirk. "I just think you're hot, that's all."

Well, that had been a bolster to Seungmin's confidence. Not that Seungmin had needed much— he was never the type to be too self-conscious, but in the presence of someone as bold as Hyunjin, Seungmin seemed to shrink. It was a feeling he was unfortunately used to in his job, the strict formalities and bureaucracy having a way of making him feel like a butterfly with its wings pinned. It wasn't that he hated his job, per se— working in politics and intergalactic law was interesting, and Seungmin was good at what he did. He had risen up the ranks quickly, his quick wit and attention to detail netting him the favour of his supervisors. It paid handsomely and allowed him to travel, putting him up in luxurious accommodations with a plentiful personal spending budget whenever he was on other planets for business. But it was lonely, to constantly be travelling without anyone alongside him, and all of the people he met were so stiff and prim, speaking formally with each other and rigid in their ways. Seungmin usually tended to be the youngest in the room, and sometimes all he wanted was to loosen his tie, drop the proper act, and drink a beer at some hole in the wall bar with people like him. Which was why he found himself in this bar in the first place, with people like Hyunjin, whose grease stained jeans and taste for fruity liqueurs were a welcome contrast to the people Seungmin had met lately.

He'd taken Hyunjin's hand that pulled him out onto the dance floor without much thought. Seungmin had never been one for dancing much, but a bit of liquid courage in his veins and the molten gaze of Hyunjin's eyes on his skin could convince him to do nearly anything. It was clear that Hyunjin was the better dancer between the two of them, moving fluidly to the music as soon as they were in the crowd, and Seungmin could only try his best to follow Hyunjin's lead. Thankfully, his lack of dance experience seemed to strike Hyunjin as more amusing rather than off-putting, as the other young man just laughed, moving closer to Seungmin to drape long, lean arms over his shoulders. Seungmin hadn't known what to do with his own hands for a few moments, but after a raised brow and an expectant look from Hyunjin, he'd placed his hands on the other man's waist, much to Hyunjin's apparent delight.

The music pumping through the speakers was loud and bass-filled, rumbling through Seungmin's body with each pulse of the beat, but when Hyunjin moved in to speak next to his ear, it was as if Seungmin could only hear his voice. "So," Hyunjin began, a bit out of breath from constant moving, his breath puffing warm and damp against Seungmin's ear. He had to resist the urge to shudder when he realized just how close the beautiful man in front of him had gotten. "What brought you to this bar, anyways? You don't seem like the bar-going type." A small snicker, as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Seungmin a bit tighter. "No offense."

Seungmin just smiled— he knew exactly what he looked like, a boring businessman out of his element. "None taken," he replied, angling his head towards Hyunjin in hopes of the other man being able to hear him more clearly. "I just wanted to escape for a while, that's all. Relax and unwind, without any pressure."

Hyunjin let out a thoughtful hum, then pulled back. In the dark, blinking lights on the dance floor, his eyes looked like ink. Seungmin felt as if he could drown in them. "And have you?" Hyunjin asked, his fingers curling lightly on the back of Seungmin's neck. Seungmin felt goosebumps rise up on his skin despite himself. "Relaxed?"

Seungmin swallowed, looking back at the man who seemed like a tiger, poised and ready to pounce. "In a way," he answered vaguely, and Hyunjin grinned.

The silence between the two of them hung heavy for a moment, and Seungmin felt a strange sort of pull in his chest, feeling as if he knew what was about to come next. Without thinking much about why or how any of this might work in the aftermath, Seungmin made an aborted attempt to lean in, but thought better of it at the last moment, pulling back with wide eyes. He felt a flush creep up his neck at the laugh Hyunjin let out over his actions, but soon enough Hyunjin was leaning in himself, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of Seungmin's cheek. The contrast between how devilishly confident and composed Hyunjin had seemed earlier and the shy but pleased grin on Hyunjin's face now made his head spin.

"There," Hyunjin said confidently, his hands fidgeting with the collar of Seungmin's shirt. "Feel a bit more relaxed now?"

Seungmin almost wanted to laugh at the question. "Yeah, you could say that," he replied, a bit disbelievingly, and Hyunjin let out a laugh. Seungmin opened his mouth to say more, wanting to hear that laugh again, but he paused when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Normally, it wouldn't be an unusual occurrence for his phone to ring, the nature of his job meaning that people were constantly contacting him about one thing or another, but Seungmin had muted all of them tonight, other than ones that were urgent or emergencies. The surprise and worry at his phone buzzing must have shown on his face, as Hyunjin's expression immediately changed, his grin falling off his face and his hands loosening their hold on Seungmin's shoulders.

"Sorry," Seungmin said quickly, not wanting Hyunjin to get the wrong idea. He let go of Hyunjin's waist with one hand to fish his phone out of his pocket, waving it so Hyunjin could see. "Just a work thing. Hold on a second."

Hyunjin nodded, a bit of a pout forming on his lips as he had to take his hands off Seungmin, and Seungmin tried his best not to laugh at it. As it stands, he reluctantly took his other hand off of Hyunjin as well, taking a step back so that the information on his phone wouldn't be seen.

As he had expected, there were several notifications, missed calls and messages from people trying to contact him about work matters even though they were well outside work hours. But the urgent message blinked at the top of his phone, an alert broadcast to everyone in his line of work.

_ [URGENT] Humanitarian crisis meeting at Capital, 03/25 12:00pm galactic standard time. All planetary delegates within reasonable travel distance expected to attend. Those who are unable to attend will need to contact Capital authorities to arrange a representative, or are expected to conference in. Law enforcement and investigative committee also expected to attend. Please confirm attendance by tomorrow no later than 2:00pm galactic standard time. _

Seungmin's brows furrowed. This wasn't a usual occurrence. The galaxy had been in a state of relative peace since long before Seungmin was born, when a coalition between all inhabited planets was formed to establish the Capital and maintain good political relations between each planet. A humanitarian crisis was especially unheard of. But the meeting wasn't for another three days, and Seungmin didn't have to confirm his attendance as a member of the investigative committee until the next day— so his phone went back into his pocket, the alert to be dealt with another time.

When he looked back up, Hyunjin was waiting for him, still exactly where Seungmin had left him and looking at him with a mix of curiosity and worry. When Seungmin stepped closer again, Hyunjin's arms moved up to his shoulders easily, draped over them like they had belonged there all this time.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a bit mumbled through pouty lips. "I know your job is important to you, so if you need to go.."

Seungmin shook his head, his hands moving back to curl around Hyunjin's waist again. "Nothing that requires me urgently," he assured, putting on an easy smile to ease Hyunjin's mind. "It can wait until tomorrow morning."

Hyunjin seemed to brighten up like that, standing up straighter and his eyes twinkling again. "Oh, good," he said, genuinely relieved, and his arms moved so that his hands were resting on Seungmin's shoulders, palms over his collarbones. "In that case, then... Do you want to get out of here?"

Seungmin's eyebrows rose, feeling a flush creep up his neck. It'd be a lie to say that he hadn't thought of it, but the sort of thing Hyunjin was implying wasn't exactly what Seungmin had come to the bar for. "I..." Seungmin began, voice cracking a bit. He felt remarkably nervous all of a sudden, remembering the way Hyunjin had flirted with him earlier. Had this been Hyunjin's intention the whole time? "Uh, I'm..."

Hyunjin's eyes went wide then, and suddenly he was laughing, collapsing into Seungmin with the force of it. "Oh my god," he replied breathlessly, his head against Seungmin's shoulder. "Oh my god, not like that, no. You're cute, but I'm not that type of person."

Seungmin felt a bit foolish, but his arms still circled Hyunjin's waist anyways, holding the still giggling man against his body. "Okay, good to know," he said, still a bit rattled by the whole thing, which just served to make Hyunjin laugh again. "Stop laughing," he complained, looking away with a red face. "What else was I supposed to think!"

"I don't know, that I just wanted to leave this bar?" Hyunjin replied, straightening up. His cheeks were rosy, his face gleaming with mirth. "Maybe I was hungry, wanted to get a snack? Of the street food variety, not the sexual innuendo variety?"

Seungmin shrugged, now feeling remarkably stupid. "Just say you want to go get food then," he said, a bit prickly and brash as he pulled a hand back to rub at his red face. "So people don't get the wrong impression or anything. You can get yourself into dangerous situations like that, you know?"

"Please, you couldn't be dangerous if you tried," Hyunjin teased, and Seungmin let out an affronted noise. But Seungmin couldn't find it in himself to really argue, not when Hyunjin was pulling his hand away from his face and tangling their fingers together.

"I'll keep it in mind for next time, though," Hyunjin added acquiescingly, looking at Seungmin with a soft smile as he tugged him out of the dance floor and towards the door. "But come on, let's get something to eat. I know the best street food market just a couple blocks from here, and I can guarantee you've never had anything like it."

* * *

Changbin hurried into one of the many alleys next to the bar, his hood tugged up to cover his face from anyone who might be looking. The chances of anyone who may recognize him being in this area was low, but it never hurt Changbin to be too careful. In his line of business, keeping away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears was essential, both for his cash flow and his life. Only when he was as sure as he could be that no one was around to see or hear him did Changbin answer the phone.

He didn't even get a chance to open his mouth before the voice on the other line was saying  _ matryoshka _ , and Changbin grit his teeth. It was a password he had set up, a word in a language Changbin didn't know and was spoken by only a few people anymore, to let him know that someone was calling about his services. It was only passed around through word of mouth, keeping him under the radar as much as possible, so someone he's worked with before must know this guy. At least this guy was relatively trustworthy, then— or as trustworthy as someone who requires the services of a smuggler could be.

Changbin could do with some niceties, though.

Swallowing down his annoyance, Changbin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, tablet in hand. The little buds he had implanted into his ears long ago meant he could hear the sound being transmitted no problem. "What's your business?" he asked bluntly— if this guy wasn't going to be polite, then Changbin wouldn't either. No need for the bullshit, especially not when Changbin wasn't exactly known for his perfect manners and sparkling clean reputation anyways.

"I've got something exotic," the voice on the other end said, low and gruff. Changbin could hear the clang of footsteps against metal panels through the line— someone on a ship, he guessed. "I need to bring it to a buyer, very quickly and very secretly."

The word exotic caught Changbin's attention, and his eyebrows furrowed. Usually Changbin was known for smuggling weapons and ammunition through space, the occasional batch of stolen goods, but nothing he would ever describe as exotic. "Exotic like what?" Changbin asked, uncertain. "Like an animal?"

The man on the other end of the line let out a humming noise, and unease prickled along Changbin's spine. "Well, not an animal," the man began, and Changbin felt his stomach drop at his next words. "I guess I should call it a person."

_ A person _ . The words echoed in Changbin's head. A person. Changbin had never even thought of smuggling a person before, for any reason. There were too many risks involved in transporting a person— another living, sentient being who would be on his ship, understanding the layout and the look of it, what Changbin looked like, worrying about food and water and somewhere to sleep... It was too risky. Changbin much preferred things that couldn't think, that were inanimate. Those couldn't rat him out to anyone. Or, you know, kill him in his sleep or something. And to make things even worse, it sounded like this person wasn't exactly there against their will... Even that was too much for Changbin's already rather loose morals to take.

"I don't transport people," he muttered down the line. He'd thought that was pretty common knowledge. This dude was wasting his time. "Find someone else."

"I'll pay any price," the man bribed, and Changbin rolled his eyes. He'd heard that one before. "I need someone reliable, and I've only heard good things about you."

Changbin scoffed. "Good things about me transporting things that aren't people," he reminded harshly, tired of the conversation already. "I don't transport people. I'm not your guy."

"Set a price," the man urged, "and I'll double it."

Changbin paused at that, but then snorted, shaking his head. He'd heard that one before, and it was always from people who couldn't afford to pay it. "Like hell you will," he spat. "Fuck off, will you? I'm a busy man."

"A million credits?" the man offered, and Changbin sighed. God, this asshole was persistent. "Two million? Three?"

No way was this man serious. Two million credits would have Changbin set for the next few years, even if he didn't work. If he was smart, he could find a place in some parts of the Lower Capital with that money, stop smuggling, maybe. Avoid the law and lay low, find something else to do.

Dreams will stay dreams, though. Changbin wanted to press the man, to see if he would fold. "Make it four million," he pushed, hoping that the man would finally hang up, "and you'll pay me a million now, a million on pickup, and the other two million when the job is done. How about that."

The line went quiet for a few moments, though Changbin could hear shifting on the other end. After a couple seconds, his tablet buzzed.

One million credits, just transferred into his account.

Changbin stared, not really believing what he was seeing. One million credits in his account. One million upfront. This dude took the deal.

"I'll send the pickup location now. Be there in two day's time." Changbin barely registered the other man speaking through his ear implants. "Pleasure doing business with you."

His tablet beeped when the call ended. Changbin stood there for a few moments, until his tablet buzzed with an address, and Changbin nearly ran back inside to find Jeongin.

* * *

Felix was scared.

He had no clue how long he had been in this room for. There were no windows, just a fluorescent light above his head, and the little slot in the bottom of the door where his captors pushed food through gave him no indication either. It felt like weeks, though Felix knew that it could only have been a few days, maybe four or five at most. But it was cold, and Felix was scared, and he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his parent's faces, the fear in their eyes as he looked at them for what was certainly the last time. His mind was plagued with thoughts of his brother— what had happened to him? Had they taken him, too? Had they killed him like they had killed his parents? The thought turned Felix's stomach, and he barely stopped himself from retching.

They hadn't hit him much since the first day, at least, only when he struggled or made too much noise. If he didn’t do what they wanted, then he’d get hit— usually hit with something, kicked in the back. How terrible of a mindset he was in, that the lack of physical abuse was a mercy. He'd struggled like hell when they'd taken him, kicked and flailed and bit and screamed his voice hoarse. But the response was swift— a punch to the stomach, a hand across the face. When they'd finally hit Felix on the temple of the head with something hard and blunt enough to make his vision spin and his ears ring, he'd given up struggling. He wasn't entirely convinced that too much struggle may make him more trouble than he's worth and end up getting him killed in the end.

Felix raised a hand to where he’d been hit, the gash along his temple arcing into his hair. He felt flakes of dried blood fall off when he passed his hand gently through his hair, but then his fingertip grazed part of the gash and Felix winced again. He hadn’t exactly been expecting any sort of care here, but the wound grew more painful day by day, and without a mirror or any way to see it, Felix thought it might be getting infected. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that— maybe they’d finally let him wash if it got bad enough, or maybe they’d just let him suffer from it. Either way, it wasn’t worth worrying about; Felix had given up hoping for any sort of decency to be afforded to him, and how he felt about things wouldn’t change the situation. All he could do was take what was given to him.

Felix startled when the door to the room he was in opened— not the small door at the bottom where Felix got food from, but the full door, enough for a person to pass through. He squinted his eyes against the light from outside, but he could see the shadow of a uniform-clad man in the doorway, the same one who had shoved Felix into this cell in the first place.

“Get up,” he barked, and Felix slowly pulled himself to his feet, every muscle in his body aching as he did so. It took everything in himself not to cry out when the man grabbed him by the upper arm and yanked him out of the room. It was too bright out here, and Felix’s head was spinning— he was disoriented, not clear on what was happening. But what was clear were the man’s next words, huffed against his ear: “Your journey’s just beginning.”


	2. part one

Seungmin woke up to the sound of his alarm going off, the thin beeping noise disturbing him from his sleep. He struggled to sit up, reaching blindly for his phone— thankfully, he managed to turn it off without looking, a well placed tap on the screen silencing the device. It took a while for Seungmin to clear both the haze from his mind and the sticky, sleepy feeling from his eyes, and it was only when he saw the room he was in that the night's events came back to him.

Him and Hyunjin had spent the night together— not in any of the risque ways Seungmin had thought Hyunjin was initially implying, when the other man suggested they leave the bar, but simply spending time with each other. True to his word, Hyunjin had taken Seungmin to a small night market not far from the bar they met at, the air hot from the fryers and displays of warm food. They'd grabbed snacks together, the food soaking up the bit of alcohol still in their bellies, then had walked the rest of it off until it was too late to safely stay out any longer. Seungmin had been a long way from home by then, but the underbelly of the Lower Capital was Hyunjin's domain, and his own place was tucked in an alleyway, the side entrance to the building so small that Seungmin was worried he might have to duck to fit his head through. But the interior was comforting and surprisingly spacious, so when Hyunjin had offered him the spare bedroom to spend the night, Seungmin willingly agreed.

Now, in the small amount of morning light provided by the bedroom window, Seungmin was actually able to take in the space. It wasn't a life of luxury by any means, that much was certain— the sparse furniture in the room was well worn, though none of it was broken or in need of being replaced. But it was homely and warm, and surprisingly nice compared to whatever Seungmin had been expecting when he took Hyunjin's invitation to come over to his place for the night. He wouldn't consider himself stuck-up by any means, despite being treated to a fair amount of luxuries through his work, but he wasn't thinking that someone working as a mechanic in the Lower Capital would be able to afford something this nice.

Seungmin reached out for his phone again once his eyes were sufficiently clear, grabbing it off the small metal table next to the bed. His alarm was set for an unfortunately early time, considering how late him and Hyunjin had gone to sleep last night. There was a pretty high chance that the other man was still asleep at this time, and Seungmin laid back down on the bed, turning his notifications on his phone off for good and closing his eyes again.

When he opened his eyes next, the room was a bit lighter, the late-morning sun shining strong through the window. The small bit of extra, undisturbed sleep had done Seungmin some good— it wasn't as hard to pull himself up and out of bed this time around, just giving his eyes a quick rub to wake himself up fully. If he listened carefully, he could hear soft movements outside the door— Hyunjin was probably awake by now. Seungmin ran a hand through his hair a couple times just to make sure that it wasn't a total disaster before opening the bedroom door.

The door entered directly into the large, main room of the unit, an open space serving as a living area, eating area, work area and kitchen. The expansiveness meant Seungmin could see Hyunjin right away when he opened the door— the other man was puttering about in the kitchen, clearly trying to put together a breakfast. "Hey," Seungmin called across the space as he stepped out and closed the door, then immediately tried to smother a laugh; at the sound of Seungmin's voice, Hyunjin jumped violently, his whole body moving with it as he threw his hands in the air.

"Um," Seungmin said, as Hyunjin slowly turned to look at him. He pressed his lips together, trying desperately not to burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Hyunjin's face. "You alright?"

"No," Hyunjin said instantly, then shook his head, shaking his hands out. "Wait, yes, yes I'm alright, I just—" He looked at Seungmin again, blinking at him a few times. "I didn't know you were still here?"

Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed, and then embarrassment began to bloom in his chest. Was he not supposed to be here? Did he miss some social cue from Hyunjin that told him to leave before morning? Didn't people only do that during one night stands? Was he supposed to treat Hyunjin's invitation to stay in the spare bedroom as a one night stand? "Uh," Seungmin said dumbly, moving a hand up to rub at his cheek. Fuck, he could feel himself blushing. "Yeah, I'm still here. But— if you don't want me to be, I can go—"

"No no no!" Hyunjin was quick to interrupt, shaking his head again so violently that Seungmin was amazed that it didn't hurt. "No, I didn't mean that. I just— I heard your alarm go off earlier, so I thought you had left already."

Ah, Hyunjin had heard that. "I fell back asleep after," Seungmin laughed nervously, his hand moving from his cheek to the back of his neck. "We went to sleep pretty late, so..."

Hyunjin nodded, and then his face lit up with a smile, and Seungmin's heart skipped a bit. "It was worth it though," he said happily, and Seungmin was so struck by how pretty Hyunjin looked even like this, in the bright light of morning with his loose sleep clothes still on and his wavy hair tied back from his face. He turned back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen, and Seungmin took a second to admire the sand-coloured curls along the long line of his neck, the angle of his shoulders. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?" Hyunjin asked, and Seungmin blinked in surprise when Hyunjin glanced back at him over his shoulder. "I haven't really started yet, so I can make enough for two."

"Oh," Seungmin said. The thought of sitting down in Hyunjin's kitchen and having a homemade meal with him was enticing, the domestic nature making his heart flutter with longing, but he didn't want to get too invested. For all he knew, Hyunjin wasn't planning on seeing him again after this; just a brief fling from the bar, one good night and that's it. So, Seungmin swallowed his feelings down. "It's okay," he said, shuffling awkwardly by the bedroom door. "You don't have to go through that effort."

Hyunjin let out a laugh, turning to look at Seungmin quickly. "It's so cute that you think I put any effort into cooking," he joked goodnaturedly. "It's just some fruit, yogurt, and toast. It's nothing gourmet."

Seungmin chuckled hesitantly, unsure of how to pull himself out of this situation. "Still," he insisted gently, looking away from Hyunjin, "I don't want to impose..."

Hyunjin clicked his teeth, and when Seungmin looked back at him, the other man was looking at Seungmin with a hand on his hip. "Okay, let me rephrase then," he said, suddenly so upfront with his feelings that Seungmin almost felt like he was looking at a different person. "I want you to stay for breakfast and I'm going to prepare something for you, so can you tell me whether you like peaches or not?"

Seungmin stared at Hyunjin for a moment, before a startled laugh bubbled out of him, and Hyunjin's previously exasperated expression morphed into a smile. Even though he'd seen a bit of Hyunjin's honest intentions last night, it still took Seungmin by surprise this morning. Maybe Hyunjin liked him more than he had thought. (Maybe he liked Hyunjin more than he had thought.) "Okay," he acquiesced, shuffling across the room towards where Hyunjin was in the kitchen. "Okay, yes, I like peaches. Thank you."

Hyunjin let out a pleased hum at that, spinning back to the counter. "Thank  _ you _ ," he quipped back, clearly satisfied— when Seungmin got close enough, he realized that Hyunjin had already sliced up enough peaches for two people, and was now moving on to some pitting a small handful of cherries. "Now, can you grab a couple bowls from the cupboard? They're in the top left one."

True to his word, the breakfast Hyunjin prepared wasn't anything luxurious. But there was something about sitting at the tiny dining table Hyunjin had, listening to him talk about his life so animatedly as he ate, that warmed part of Seungmin's heart that he hadn't realized was cold. Life and energy seemed to pour out of Hyunjin as he talked, naturally funny and animated, teasing laughs out of Seungmin every so often. Eventually, though, Hyunjin paused, looking at Seungmin.

Seungmin stopped, a bite of toast still in his mouth, and blinked back at Hyunjin. Had he missed a conversation cue? Did Hyunjin ask him something? Hyunjin didn't look expectant, though— more that he was just looking at Seungmin, really taking him in. The attention made him want to squirm, and he put his toast back down on the plate as he quickly swallowed the food in his mouth. "Is there something on my face?" he asked nervously, a hand coming up to touch the edge of his mouth.

Hyunjin laughed at that, shaking his head. "No, no," he assured. He smiled at Seungmin, and Seungmin was struck by how fond it was, considering he had only met Hyunjin last night. "You just look good like this."

Seungmin let out a confused noise without thinking, and Hyunjin laughed again, his head tipping back. "Sorry," Seungmin apologized nervously, feeling embarrassed for his honesty. "Sorry, I just... Good like what? Eating?"

"No, stupid," Hyunjin giggled, and he rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin in his hand. "Just... Like this. Sleep-ruffled, in my clothes, eating breakfast in my apartment. It's nice."

Oh. Seungmin looked down at himself as he felt heat rising to his cheeks. He'd forgotten that Hyunjin had let him borrow some clothes to sleep in last night, so Seungmin could be more comfortable. The loose, thin pants and soft grey shirt were a surprisingly good fit on him; he was a bit broader than Hyunjin, and Hyunjin was a bit taller, but it didn't seem to matter much. He let out a little, embarrassed laugh, flustered by the compliment. "Well," he hesitated, not sure what to say. When he looked up, Hyunjin was still watching him, a bit of a flush to his own cheeks. "Thank you," Seungmin settled on. "I like being here."

The two of them hesitated and stalled their way through cleaning up after breakfast and getting dressed for the day, trying to drag the amount of time between them out a bit longer. Seungmin knew he had to get back to his place and to work soon— the message he had received last night, along with all the other work related calls and messages he had received, were burning on his phone and weighing down his mind. But he didn't want to say goodbye to Hyunjin, not yet, especially when he wasn't sure if this would be his last time seeing this beautiful boy.

Eventually, though, there was nothing else to do. Seungmin had changed back into the clothes he wore last night, and the sleep clothes were given back to Hyunjin to wash. The dishes from breakfast were washed, dried, put away— the table and kitchen clean. And Seungmin was standing at the narrow entryway to Hyunjin's place, the beautiful young man in front of him shuffling his feet in front of him.

"Will I see you again?" Seungmin finally found the courage to ask. As soon as the words were out, they hung heavy in the air between them. Hyunjin stopped his shuffling and looked at Seungmin with wide eyes and parted lips, as if he hadn't expected Seungmin to actually say anything. And as nervous as the question made him, Seungmin would have kicked himself for the rest of his life if he never found the courage to ask.

Eventually, Hyunjin gathered in his shock, and his lips quirked up in a smile. "Usually I make a rule of not seeing the same person twice," he said slowly, and Seungmin felt his heart sink to the bottom of his chest, heavy in his stomach. Oh. He must have read things wrong, then.

"But," Hyunjin continued, just as Seungmin was reaching for the doorknob. He paused, watching as Hyunjin fidgeted nervously with his hair, brushing stray strands out of his face. "If you found me again, I think I could make an exception. For you."

Seungmin looked at Hyunjin, flustered and fidgety, and felt his heart lift again. "Just for me?" he asked, suddenly bold, and grinned at the laugh it shocked out of Hyunjin.

"Yes, just for you," Hyunjin answered, and Seungmin grinned at him, letting out a laugh. Hyunjin let out a flustered noise, reaching out to pat his chest and shove him gently to the door. "Okay, now go," he pressed, embarrassed. Seungmin found it endearing. "You've got stuff to do, and we've already been dawdling long enough."

"Okay," Seungmin chuckled, letting himself be shoved for a moment before reaching out and catching Hyunjin's hand with his own. His heart was thudding in his chest as he twined their fingers together and gave Hyunjin's hand a quick squeeze, the other man's shocked and reddened face looking back at him. "Okay, I'm going. But I'll find you later, okay?"

"O— Okay," Hyunjin stuttered out, frozen as Seungmin let go of his hand and opened the door. Seungmin was halfway out before he heard a choked noise from inside— "Wait,"— and a hand was grabbing his again.

When Seungmin turned back, Hyunjin moved forward, and their lips brushed together for just a moment. Hyunjin startled back in shock, and Seungmin knew his expression wasn't much better.

"Um," Hyunjin eventually said, after a few moments of silence. His eyes were the size of saucers. "I was trying to kiss your cheek, but you— you moved, and..."

Seungmin's heart was thudding in his ears. "Oh," he said dumbly, then, stupidly, turned to angle his cheek towards Hyunjin. "Well, if you want, you can—"

"No— augh," Hyunjin let out a frustrated noise, his shoulders slumping. Seungmin would have laughed if he hadn't felt so close to passing out. "No, don't be stupid, we already— we just— can you look at me?"

Seungmin turned his face back towards Hyunjin, and realized belatedly what Hyunjin was doing when he stepped in and placed his hands on Seungmin's shoulders. He leaned in slowly, clearly giving Seungmin time to move away if he wanted to, but when Seungmin didn't, he closed the distance between them.

It wasn't fireworks, or electricity, or anything violent like people tend to describe. Kissing Hyunjin felt like putting the last piece into a puzzle you've spent hours trying to solve. It felt like a relief, felt like something that needed to happen— it felt right.

They didn't kiss for long— just a few seconds before Hyunjin pulled away. His hands lingered on Seungmin's shoulders, though, still standing in his space; Seungmin stepping back towards the door felt like trying to pull two magnets apart. "Okay," Hyunjin said, soft. He kept looking between Seungmin's eyes and his lips, and Seungmin wanted to grab his hands, pull him back in, not set a foot outside of Hyunjin's space ever again. "Okay, goodbye Seungmin. Find me again, yeah?"

"I will," Seungmin assured. Hyunjin's eyes seemed to twinkle at that, his face lighting up. "I'll find you, I promise."

"Okay," Hyunjin said. He was smiling as Seungmin stepped out of the narrow doorway, back into the cramped alley. "Okay, good. I'll see you then."

"Yeah," Seungmin agreed, giving Hyunjin one last smile and wave before making his way down the alley, back towards his normal life. "I'll see you then."

* * *

Changbin felt jumpy and jittery as he waited, back leaned up against the landing gear of his ship. He'd made it to the meeting place for the drop-off in one piece— an abandoned factory complex on a poorer planet, situated at the far reaches of the galaxy— but for some reason, Changbin couldn't shake the nerves. It wasn't that he felt that anything was going to go wrong; Changbin had enough faith in himself and his contacts to trust that he hadn't fallen for a set up, and he was going to be able to pull off the delivery he was being paid for. It was just that something about this whole situation didn't sit right with Changbin, didn't feel like a good thing to do. Granted, nothing Changbin did for work was exactly legal or good, but this in particular really hit a sour note with him. Vaguely, he wondered just how skewed his morals had gotten in this line of work for him to accept a job like this.

_ Think of the money _ , Changbin reminded himself as he watched a small ship approach, the paint on the metal so dark it was nearly as black as deep space.  _ Think of the money _ .

Changbin stayed still until the ship had landed nearby, its hatch opening to let its passengers out. Changbin moved forward, out from underneath the ship so he could be seen. His hand stayed on his gun the whole time— he wasn't stupid enough to trust these guys fully, and he needed to be prepared if things went awry.

A man, tall and burly, stalked down the ramp of the hatch. Even from a distance, Changbin could tell his face was covered, a black mask obscuring all of his features. He held a chain in his hand, and Changbin watched as he gave it a harsh tug. Out of the hatch, on the other end of the chain, a boy tumbled, his stumbling legs carrying him clumsily down the ramp until he fell into a heap at the bottom. Changbin felt sick as he watched the man kick the boy until he managed to struggle to his feet. Then, the pair were making their way towards Changbin, and Changbin could finally get a good look at who he was now in charge of.

The young man was thin, Changbin could tell, and not that tall, though still a bit taller than Changbin himself. His clothes were dirty, bloodied and tattered, hems fraying and holes torn in the knees of his pants and across his shirt. Changbin couldn't tell what colour his hair was at first, until the boy got a bit closer— it was only then that Changbin realized the boy's hair was a sandy blonde, though one side of his head was darkened with the brownish-red of dried blood. When the pair got closer still, Changbin was struck by how pretty and delicate the boy's features were, even with blood on his skin and his expression withdrawn. His eyes were angled like a cat's, his chin and nose sloped and pointed, with heart-shaped cheeks and freckles adorning his skin.

Changbin recalled the money he had been given to transport this young man, and suddenly felt sick at what fate might befall him for that sort of price.

The man with the mask pulled the chain along, the young man trailing behind, his bare feet dragging in the dirt. The man didn't say anything to Changbin, simply held the chain out once he was close enough. There was no need for words anyways— Changbin had already received the coordinates for where he was supposed to complete the delivery, a route from Jeongin mapped out in advance and pre-programmed into his ship's navigation system.

Changbin took the chain, and the man stepped back, waiting patiently for what Changbin would do. Changbin looked at the boy, but the boy's eyes were trained on the ground in front of him, eyes faraway, as if his body was here but his soul was somewhere else. Changbin looked away again, then silently moved towards his ship, the chain rattling as he walked. It pulled taut for a moment, and Changbin looked over his shoulder to see that the young man hadn't moved, still standing in the same spot. Changbin opened his mouth to call to him, but before he had a chance, the man with the mask was stalking angrily towards the young man, shoving him harshly from behind so the boy stumbled forward a few steps. Changbin felt sick.

The boy seemed shocked for a few moments, gasping as he looked at the ground, before he seemed to right himself, standing up a bit straighter and taking a few small steps in Changbin's direction. When Changbin moved towards his ship this time, looking back at the boy over his shoulder, the boy followed, his slow, trudging footsteps a funeral march to the entrance of Changbin's ship. The man stayed where he had pushed the boy from, watching as Changbin led the young man into his ship, into the small room Changbin had prepared for him to stay in, with a door Changbin could lock from the outside and couldn't be opened from the inside. He stayed there even as Changbin closed the hatch, his ship lifting into the sky and embarking on its route.

Changbin set the food down on the table slowly, trying not to move too suddenly or make too much noise lest the boy currently sitting on the bed decide to lunge at him from across the room. He was thin, his skin pale, dried blood streaked across the side of his head and face, but Changbin could see the wiry muscles of his arms where they were wrapped around his knees. This boy wasn't weak, and Changbin didn't want to risk anything.

Thankfully, the boy didn't lunge at him, even as Changbin finished setting the food down and pushed it closer to the boy. He didn't move to take the food either though, looking between it and Changbin warily.

Changbin tried to gesture to the boy to eat, but the boy didn't move, still watching Changbin. Eventually, Changbin sighed, shoulders slumping.

"Please eat," he begged, not sure if the boy could understand— he may not be able to speak the common language, as far as Changbin knew. "I really don't need you starving to death on my ship."

The boy continued to stare at him, and Changbin was about ready to give up, until the boy suddenly said, "How do I know you haven't done anything to it?"

Changbin startled, staring at the boy with wide eyes. So he does speak. He's got an accent, though, so clearly he was from somewhere far out, but he spoke well enough that Changbin had no problem understanding. His voice was deeper than Changbin would have thought, too, considering his pretty face and small frame. It was intriguing. Changbin wanted to hear it again.

As it stood now, he snorted, crossing his arms. "They're paying me enough money to move you that I'll be set for the next decade," he explained. "I'd be an idiot to do anything to you. Now go on."

Something in the boy's expression seemed to change at that, an uncomfortable look on his face, and Changbin had a moment of regret. Right, it probably wasn't a good idea to tell the person you're unwillingly smuggling how great of a deal it was for your business. But Changbin tried his best to push those feelings down, not wanting to develop any sort of care for someone like this. And after a few moments, the discomfort seemed to vanish from the boy's expression, and he slowly reached over to take the food and eat.

Changbin wasn't anywhere close to being the best cook in the galaxy, but the way the boy ate made it seem like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Changbin felt guilt swimming in his stomach as he watched, wondering what they must have fed the boy to make him so eager to eat Changbin's bland and mediocre cooking— or if they fed him at all. As he watched, too, he got a better look at the boy; the cuts and bruises assumedly left on him by his attackers, the dirty clothes, the way he winced whenever he moved his left arm at the shoulder.

Changbin felt queasy with guilt, and he took a shaky breath. "Hey," he called, and the boy paused where he was eating, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. Changbin knew this was a terrible idea, but he couldn't help himself. "Do you have a name?"

The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slowly lowered his hand, placing the bread back onto the tray. "Yeah," he answered nervously. "My name's Felix."

“Felix,” Changbin tried, turning the words in his mouth. It was awkward to say, for him, the cluster of consonants twisting his tongue. Felix seemed to approve of the pronunciation, giving Changbin a nod as he took a bite of bread, so the pilot figured he was doing alright. “I’m Changbin.”

“Changbin, Changbin,” Felix echoed back around a mouthful of bread, and Changbin had to stop himself from smiling. Fuck, this was a mistake. Felix was endearing. “I hope you won’t kill me, Changbin.”

Changbin’s heart twisted at the casual way Felix spoke about death, and he wondered, for a moment, what the boy had been through to make him that way. How much death had he seen before? How many people had been killed around him? Changbin swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was probably best that he didn’t know.

“Don’t worry,” he assured gently. “I won't."

It didn’t take long for Felix to finish his meal, the young man wolfing down his food so fast that Changbin was surprised that the boy had even taken the time to chew anything. When he finished, Felix let out a sigh, clearly satisfied and content with the meal. It made the corners of Changbin’s lips quirk up with a smile, but it dropped when Felix leaned back against the wall, his shoulder bumping against it and causing him to let out a wince.

_ You’re not supposed to care, _ Changbin tried to tell himself, even as he was already leaning forward with a concerned expression. Instantly, Felix was on guard at the movement, his body tensing and his eyes focused.  _ Don’t get involved. It’ll be easier that way. _ “I noticed your shoulder,” he commented instead, nodding his head towards Felix’s left arm, “and you’ve got blood on your face. Are… Are you okay?”

Felix scoffed a little at that, rolling his eyes, and Changbin remembered again with a start what the circumstances of them meeting were. Right, smuggling this boy away from his family and across the galaxy. There was no way to paint any of that as okay. “Stupid question,” Changbin corrected hurriedly, before Felix could find a way to brush him off. “I meant— are you hurt? Like, physically?”

Felix seemed to actually consider Changbin’s words at that, shrugging after a moment with another wince. “The shoulder’s just a sprain,” he remarked, casual, glancing at it. He rolled it once, and Changbin felt his stomach twist at the way Felix’s features contorted into a grimace. “A— uh, a bad one, probably. But I’ll be okay. My head…” Felix lifted a hand to touch gingerly at the side of his face, and a bit of dried blood flaked off, falling onto his lap. Changbin cringed.

“We should probably get that cleaned up,” Changbin remarked unthinkingly, only realizing the implications of what he had said when Felix blinked at him. He hesitated for a few moments, then shrugged.  _ Fuck it _ . He was way past the point of not getting involved at all. If he was bringing this boy to a lifetime of misery, Changbin was at least going to make him comfortable along the way.

“I have a first aid kit on board,” Changbin elaborated as he stood up. He nodded his head towards the door, trying not to be too phased by how nervous Felix seemed to have gotten. The boy was slowly curling up again, clearly on guard now that Changbin was moving. Changbin tried his best not to watch. “If you wait a couple minutes, I can go grab it.”

Felix was silent for long enough that Changbin looked back at him with furrowed brows. When he did, he found Felix staring at him, eyebrows furrowed and looking equal parts puzzled and fearful. “Why,” he began slowly, his voice filled with trepidation, “are you helping me?”

Changbin blinked at Felix, his eyes narrowing. He tapped the side of his head, mirroring where the blood was caked into Felix’s hair. Felix’s hand moved up to cover the wound ashamedly. “You’re bleeding,” he pointed out obviously, “and you probably shouldn’t be, so I’m getting a first aid kit. Does that not make sense?”

Felix’s face was still painted with concern as he shook his head. “No— I mean, I shouldn’t be bleeding,” he agreed hesitantly, and Changbin had to try his best not to look amused at the struggle present on Felix’s pouting face, “but… You’re being nice to me. Why are you being nice to me?”

Changbin sighed at the question, and Felix frowned. “Hey, I’m serious,” he called, and Changbin nodded.

“I know, I know,” Changbin answered. He let out another sigh, crossing his arms as he took in Felix. He didn’t know how long this boy had been living like this for— fearful, distrustful of others, but it was sad to watch. Changbin hardly knew this boy, but he knew enough that he didn’t want to be part of the reason why he felt that way. Still, though…

“I’m a smuggler,” Changbin explained bluntly, looking at Felix. “But I’m not an asshole. I’m not gonna make things harder for you than they already are.”

That seemed to shake something in Felix, stunning the young man into silence. When Changbin took the plate off the table and left to go get the first-aid kit, the young man didn’t say anything.

"Okay, this is probably gonna hurt," Changbin warned, alcohol-soaked cotton ball raised by Felix's head. "Stay still for me."

Felix nodded, but at the first touch of the alcohol to the open wound along his hairline, he gasped, jerking away. "No," he said quickly, and Changbin's heart ached at the fear coating his voice, "no, no more, don't touch it."

"I'm not doing it to hurt you," Changbin said with a sigh, pulling back to look at Felix. "It's gotta be cleaned— what if it gets infected and you get sick and die?"

Felix went quiet at that, and Changbin watched with something akin to horror as Felix's expression smoothed out into something blank. He reached out and grabbed Felix's arm, startling him out of whatever thoughts had been developing in his head, and when Felix looked at him, Changbin's chest went tight.

"Hey," Changbin said harshly. Jesus Christ, he could not deal with this shit. Not today, not ever. "Hey, no. You're not dying, not on my fucking ship. So you're going to let me clean your wound, whether you like it or not."

Felix looked at him for a few moments, looking like he wanted to argue, before the resistance bled out of him and he sighed, giving his head a small shake. "Fine," he said, curling his small hands around the edge of the bed. He tilted his head for Changbin to be able to see better, though Changbin could see the tendons in his neck strained and tense from nerves. "Fine. Go ahead."

Changbin hesitated for a moment, then slowly held out his free hand. Felix looked at it, puzzled. "If it hurts," Changbin said eventually, his eyes trained on the walls next to Felix's head so he didn't have to see the way Felix's eyes widened slightly. "You can squeeze my hand if it hurts."

Felix didn't say anything in response to that, just waited in silence, so Changbin took that as the go ahead to lean in again, pressing the cotton ball to Felix's wound again. Felix hissed at the feeling, but didn't pull away this time, his face contorting in pain. After a few moments, he jerked, and Changbin felt a small hand grab onto his, squeezing his hand in a tight grip.

"It's okay," Changbin said quietly, dabbing the cotton ball along the wound. He held Felix's hand in return, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Felix's grip only tightened. "It'll be done soon. You're doing great."

Changbin dabbed along the wound until the cotton ball was red and heavy with Felix's blood. When he pulled away to throw it out, Felix let out a heaving gasp, like he'd been holding his breath the whole time. He didn't let go of Changbin's hand, though his grip relaxed, his shoulders sagging. "That hurts," he said breathlessly, and Changbin let out a sympathetic hum.

"It hurts, but it's good for you," Changbin reminded, then tried not to laugh as Felix whined, slumping in his seat. "I know, I know," he continued, squeezing Felix's hand again as he picked up another cotton ball with tweezers and dunked it into the alcohol. "I want to make sure it's clean, though. Can you do one more?"

Felix took a breath that seemed to shudder in his lungs, and his grip tightened on Changbin's hand for a moment before relaxing again. "Okay," Felix acquiesced, tipping his head for Changbin again. "Okay, one more."

"Good, good," Changbin murmured softly, bringing the cotton to Felix's wound again. Felix still hissed this time, his grip tightening on Changbin's hand again, but he seemed more used to the pain this time around, not the tense, barely held together composure like last time. Changbin was thankful for it— he was able to clean a bit more thoroughly, and felt a bit less of an asshole for it, too. "Okay," he said when he was done this time, Felix letting out a less distressed sigh as Changbin tossed out the cotton ball. "Hardest part's done. Now let's wipe off all the blood, okay?"

Felix was more patient with Changbin for this, letting Changbin gently stroke a damp cloth along the undamaged skin and hair around the wound to wipe away the blood. It was a bit hard to work with one hand, but Felix hadn't let him go yet, and Changbin couldn't quite bring himself to deny the young man this small comfort. Once everything was clean and dry, though, he did have to slip his hand away from Felix's to place the bandages on— and if Felix's cheeks were a bit red from embarrassment, Changbin didn't comment on it.

"There we go," Changbin said once the bandage was in place, taped down firmly over the gash on Felix's head. It wasn't a perfect solution— the cut needed stitches and was certainly going to leave a nasty scar, but Changbin didn't have the means or the know-how to go about doing that, so the bandage would have to do. Felix, at least, seemed a bit relieved, now that he was in a bit less pain and a bit cleaner. "That's done. Is there anything else that's hurt, other than your shoulder?"

Felix shrugged his good shoulder at that, looking down at his feet. "I've got a few bruises, but it's nothing major," he answered quietly. "They'll heal fine on their own."

Changbin's eyebrows furrowed at how Felix had seemed to withdraw without him noticing, but he decided not to say anything about it. "Are you sure?" he asked, rummaging through the first aid kit. "I've got some numbing cream, so even though it won't help you heal, it might make you a bit more comfortable..."

Felix was quiet for long enough that Changbin turned to look at him again, but Felix was still looking at his feet, his hands in his lap. "Felix?" Changbin prompted, and Felix's head lifted slightly, though he didn't look up. "You still with me?"

"Yeah," Felix answered after a couple more moments. His voice was strange and thin, like it was hard for him to talk, and Changbin felt worry grow in his chest, though he pushed it down. "Actually, can you... The numbing cream, can you..."

Changbin's heart ached at how much Felix was struggling to ask him for what he needed, and he hurried to fish the numbing cream out of the first aid kit. "Yeah, of course I can," he said, even though Felix hadn't finished saying what he was asking Changbin for. "Do you want me to help put it on, or leave it for you, or..."

Changbin watched Felix's throat work as he swallowed. "Can you put it on?" he asked eventually. "I probably can't reach the ones on my back, so..."

"Of course," Changbin agreed readily, already unscrewing the cap. "Just show me where."

Felix nodded, then turned on the seat so his back was to Changbin, the line of his spine showing through his tattered shirt. Slowly, gradually, Felix pulled his shirt over his head, and Changbin had to try his best not to let out a gasp at the mess of bruises marring Felix's freckled skin.

"Is it bad?" Felix asked, seeming to sense Changbin's reaction even though he couldn't see him. Changbin hesitated, the numbing cream still held in his hand. "Be honest," Felix tacked on after a few moments of silence, and Changbin sighed.

"Yeah," Changbin said as he reached into the first aid kit to grab a new pair of gloves for himself. Even when he looked away, the boot shaped bruises among the other marks on Felix's back were burned into his mind. "Yeah, Felix, it looks pretty bad."

Felix just took in a shaky breath at that, then blew it out in a steady stream of air, seeming to deflate as it left him. "Okay," Felix murmured, as Changbin spread the numbing cream over his fingers. "Okay, go ahead."

Changbin let out a soft hum, slowly beginning to spread the cream over the worst of the bruises. Felix, to his credit, only flinched slightly at the touch of Changbin's hand on his skin, before he seemed to curl in on himself again, his shoulders rolled forward and his head hung low. Changbin just thought the boy was exhausted— Changbin figured he would be, after how much he had been through— but his hand slowed on Felix's back when he heard a hitching breath and realized his shoulders were shaking.

He drew his hand away, and Felix immediately shook his head, glancing quickly back at Changbin. Changbin's heart clenched when he noticed Felix's face was wet with tears. "No, it's fine," Felix said, but his voice was thick and cottony in his throat. "It doesn't hurt, I'm okay."

"No— Felix," Changbin said, concerned. He placed his hand on Felix's back again, and his heart shook when he heard Felix sob. "Why are you crying?"

Felix shook his head again, drawing his knees up to his chest. Like this, he looked so small— Felix wasn't much taller than Changbin himself, but he seemed to just shrink into himself now, like he wanted to disappear.

"I don't understand," Felix said. His voice was muffled, his face pressed to his knees. "You— I get kidnapped, my family is killed, I get kicked and beat and starved and treated like  _ shit _ and then—" Felix shook his head again, his shoulders shuddering as he tried to breathe, looking like he was about to fall apart. "And now you're here being nice to me?"

Changbin felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. He stared at Felix's battered back, watching it shake as Felix cried. "Your... Your family?" he echoed. He felt like he'd been hollowed out. "They killed your family?"

Felix let out a coughing, gasping sob, and Changbin felt sick. "They killed my mom right in front of me," he wept, shaking. "My dad after. I didn't see what happened to my brother, but— they probably—" Felix let out another cough, his whole body rattling, and Changbin put both hands on Felix's shoulders, as if he could stop the young man in front of him from falling apart.

Changbin didn't know what to say. This hadn't been in the job description. Honestly, he knew that there wasn't any good story behind transporting someone who had been kidnapped— that thought alone was enough to turn Changbin's gut in guilt— but hearing the truth of it from Felix's own mouth shook him to his core. He felt like he'd been hollowed out, completely empty inside at the realization that he had been part of this— complicit in someone being taken and their family being murdered— for money?

Felix gasped again, and Changbin was brought back to the present situation, his hands still on Felix's shoulders. He hushed the young man, moving to sit closer to him, but Felix shifted away slightly and Changbin's heart broke. "Felix," Changbin said quietly. He felt sick. "Felix, I— I didn't know—"

"It's fine," Felix bit out. His face was still pressed to his knees, his voice muffled. "I can't do anything now. It's done. They're already dead. All I can do is just— just sit here and wait until you take me to wherever they're paying you to take me to, right?"

The words hit Changbin like a punch in the gut. He did this for money. He was complicit in someone's life being ruined— for money. Fuck, he couldn't do this. "I— Felix," he tried, but stopped. What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry? I won't do it? I won't take the money for it? None of that would help anything. Felix was still taken from his home, his family was still dead, he was still on Changbin's ship on his way to whatever fate his kidnappers were sending him to. God, Changbin felt like he was going to be sick.

He slowly removed his hands from Felix's shoulders, moving away from the young man again. Felix didn't move, remaining with his head in his knees. "Felix," he tried instead, taking off the gloves on his hands. He looked at his hands and didn't see himself. "You should get some rest. There's a shower— you can wash up tomorrow," he offered weakly.

Felix stayed quiet, unmoving other than the hitching rise and fall of his chest. He stayed silent as Changbin gathered up the supplies from the first aid kit, made his way out of the room, and locked the door.

* * *

"Are you feeling alright?" Woojin's voice filtered into Chan's brain, and he startled, turning his head to the source of the voice. The prince was seated next to Chan, a composed sort of worry painted across his face. His emerald coloured robes, meticulously embroidered with symbols and imagery Chan could never understand, were a stark contrast to Chan's own all-black get-up, all baggy fit and breathable fabric. "You seemed out of it for a moment."

Chan tried to laugh it off, but it must have come off exactly as fake as it felt, as Woojin's concerned gaze deepened. The pain that Chan felt in his face when trying to smile certainly didn't make it a convincing grimace, either. "I'm alright," Chan tried to reassure anyway, waving his good arm as if to swat Woojin's worries out of the air like flies. "It's fine. Just thinking."

"Are you sure?" Woojin pressed, and Chan's nod barely had enough strength to be considered half-hearted. It certainly didn't do anything to abate Woojin, who sighed, clearly recognizing the lie Chan was trying to pull on him. "I don't think you are," he said, straightforwardly, and Chan dropped his head. "Chan, you look so nervous that you're about to be sick. What's wrong?"

Woojin was right. Chan felt like all of his insides had been turned inside out, that's how nervous he was. Even with all of Woojin's attendants helping him, even with all of the reassurances and thorough preparation, Chan still could barely stomach the fact that he was about to accompany Woojin on a mission to detail what happened on his planet in front of the entire galaxy. When the prince had told him his plan, at first, Chan had immediately refused; he couldn't bear to relive that, not so soon after it had happened. But Woojin's gentle reassurances and Chan's own processing of the event had swayed his thoughts, and only a few days after waking, Chan found himself where he was now, on Woojin's personal, private ship, en route to the Capital to expose what happened to every other planet out there. Chan wasn't even fully healed yet— his arm was still bandaged and in a sling to keep him from moving it, and bruises still marred the pale skin of his body from the crash. But despite his nervousness, Chan knew— if not now, when? If not him, who? There was no one else who survived, as far as he knew. Chan had no one to rely on but himself.

He knew this meeting was the right thing to do, of course— he wanted justice for his friends and family, he wanted revenge, he wanted to see every single person involved in this pay for their crimes— but the thought of putting himself out there so openly, in front of the very people who had attempted to kill him less than two weeks earlier... Well, the thought wasn't easy to stomach.

The thought of never knowing what happened to Felix was even harder to stomach, though, and Chan groaned, dropping his head down. Immediately, Woojin's large palm was on his back, warm and comforting. "Are you going to be sick?" Woojin's concerned voice said over him. "I can get someone—"

"No," Chan interrupted, taking a deep breath. He tried to press down the anxious, shaky feeling in his chest the best he could, closing his eyes and focusing on calming down, relaxing head to toe. "No," he repeated a few moments later, when his throat didn't feel so tight and the world didn't feel so terrible to exist in. "No, I'm alright. I'm alright."

Honestly, Chan probably could have gone for a glass of water, but he didn't want to disturb the precarious bit of peace he and Woojin had found himself in. Ever since he had woken up after the crash, he felt as if he hardly had a moment without some sort of nurse or attendant around him, especially whenever he spent time with Woojin. The entourage that seemed to follow the prince was ever-present and overwhelming, following Woojin like a large and busy shadow from one room to the other. Thankfully, at Woojin's request, they'd agreed to leave the two of them alone for the long trip to the Capital, only appearing whenever Woojin summoned him. Granted, they could never be truly alone— there was still one guard standing by the door to keep watch of Woojin's immediate safety— but it was more comforting to Chan like this. The trip from Woojin's planet on the outer reaches of the galaxy to the Capital would take nearly two full days, and while the ship was comfortable, luxurious and spacious, it was still an enclosed space that Chan had no way to escape from. To be surrounded by people for the entirety of the trip would have driven Chan crazy.

Woojin was different though. Even though Woojin was a prince, leader of an entire planet, Chan never felt too nervous about him. As he picked his head back up to look at Woojin, clad in the thick, intricate attire of his planet's royalty even now, Woojin didn't have the commanding, strong aura of a ruler. There was an air of regality and authority, sure, but it was calm and reassuring— a leader you could trust rather than fear. Maybe that's how leaders were supposed to be; Chan knew his own experience with leadership had been quite warped, after all.

He put on a bit of a smile— soft, crooked, but more genuine than the one he had attempted to give Woojin before. It seemed to work in convincing him; the worry slid slowly off of Woojin's face, and he sat a bit more relaxed in his seat, though still with the perfect posture of royalty. Subconsciously, Chan tried to fix his own to match, but the movement pulled his bruised and tired muscles, so he settled back into whatever comfortable, slouched posture he had been sitting in before.

"I'll do all the talking at the meeting," Woojin informed him, seeming to sense what Chan was worried about without Chan even speaking. That was one thing Chan had quickly learned about Woojin— the prince was perceptive, almost incredibly so, to the point that Chan wondered if the people of Woojin's planet had somehow developed the ability to read minds. "You don't have to talk to anyone, look at anyone, nothing. We'll go in and out quickly so there's no risk of you running into anyone, both for your physical safety and your own mental well-being. All you have to do is sit next to me and relax. Do you think you're capable of doing that?"

Chan took a breath, feeling the nerves rise up in his chest again. He desperately tried to push them down. This wasn't the first time Woojin had explained what was expected of Chan (or rather, what was not expected of Chan) at this meeting, but sitting on a ship already on the way there made it feel a bit more real. Thankfully, he was able to keep himself together, and he nodded, Woojin flashing him a smile in return. "Yeah," Chan assured— both to convince Woojin and himself. "Yeah, I can do that."

Woojin let out a little, happy hum, the sound making Chan's own lips quirk up. Woojin turned back to face forward— in front of them, a window spanned most of the wall, showing the passing planets and stars as their ship traversed the galaxy. Chan tried to relax as well, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window as well, watching the universe go by.

"Proud of you," Woojin's voice came after a few moments, soft in the quiet of the room. When Chan looked at him, Woojin was still facing forward, though his lips were turned up in a gentle smile. He looked at Chan out of the corner of his eye, and the smile grew a bit, Chan's chest feeling as if it was filled with light.

"It's thanks to you," Chan commented, turning his head back to the window. A small piece of space rock floated past them like a leaf in a stream. Chan's eyes followed it as it passed. "You saved my life. This wouldn't have happened without you."

"You saved your own life," Woojin replied, relaxing back into his seat with a sigh. Chan looked over to watch as the proper, regal posture faded, and suddenly, Woojin was just a young man like him, watching the stars. Chan turned his head back to the window to try and savour the calm. "I just met you along the way."

* * *

"Ooh, Minho, Minho," Jisung called, waving Minho over. He was standing a bit up the road from where Minho was, having run ahead, and was now fawning over a street food stall selling some sort of fried meat that Minho couldn't place. "Can we get some? It looks  _ so _ good," he pleased eagerly, eyes nearly sparkling with it, but his expression fell when Minho scoffed.

"We can't spend money on food when we still haven't fixed our ship," Minho pointed out, not even stopping as he neared Jisung. He simply grabbed Jisung by the wrist as he passed, tugging the younger man along as he continued to make his way towards Hyunjin's workshop, Jisung yelping as he was pulled. "Afterwards, sure, we can eat, but we need to save our money for now."

Jisung whined, taking a few quick, light steps forward so he could keep pace with Minho. "You're so mean," he whined as Minho let go of him, though Jisung immediately curled his arms around Minho's arm, clinging to his bicep as they walked. "You never let me have any fun."

"You only think I'm mean because I'm actually reasonable," Minho quipped back, steadfastly avoiding looking at Jisung, even as the younger man leaned his head on Minho's shoulder and pouted up at him. "And I let you have plenty of fun. Now can you let go of me? It's hard to walk."

Jisung scoffed, dramatically throwing himself away from Minho and crossing his arms. "You won't even let me touch you!" he protested, and Minho rolled his eyes. As if he didn't let Jisung get away with all sorts of skinship, like sitting in his lap or clinging onto Minho for just standing there. (Or crawling into Minho's bed late at night, when memories of all he's been through are keeping Jisung awake, and Minho lets him whisper all of the stories of his past into Minho's collar to empty his mind of them, Minho's hand tracing the scars along Jisung's back.) "Mean," Jisung continued, pouting exaggeratedly at Minho, who didn't even bother to respond. "Mean, mean, mean."

Minho let Jisung sulk a bit longer, until Hyunjin's workshop was in sight. He knew Hyunjin would give him hell if he saw Jisung sulking— Hyunjin was Jisung's friend first, after all, Jisung seeming to attract people to him like a magnet— so Minho stepped a bit closer to the younger man, dropping a heavy arm around Jisung's shoulders. Jisung startled, his hands flying up from his still-crossed arms, and Minho felt guilty for startling him for only half a second until a smile, bright and satisfied, bloomed across Jisung's face.

Hyunjin was in the small, shaded area in front of his workshop when they approached, the awning providing a cool reprieve from the midday sun. His hair was tied back from his face, the sleeves of his t-shirt rucked up to expose his arms as he tinkered with a delicate watch, and Minho had to stop himself from releasing a snarky quip on Hyunjin for it. Though he hated how much Hyunjin liked to show off his good looks sometimes, Minho knew that it was how Hyunjin made a bunch of smaller pocket money from his business— a passerby would see the handsome young man and find something small for him to fix, just to see him again. It was a good tactic, sure, but that didn't mean Minho had to like it.

Hyunjin looked up when he noticed them approaching, and the knowing grin that bloomed across his face when he noticed Minho's arm on Jisung's shoulder made Minho sigh. Hyunjin had been teasing the two of them for ages, pushing them to get together, and although Minho knew that's where things seemed to be heading between them, he wasn't about to do anything just because some handsome brat was meddling with them. "Well, look who it is!" he called as they approached, setting the watch down on his rolling tool chest and wiping his hands on his pants. "Did you two come here to finally invite me to your wedding?"

"We actually came here to give you business, but if you'd rather continue harassing us, we can take our money elsewhere," Minho snarked back. Hyunjin just laughed, the high-pitched giggling that always got on Minho's nerves when it was directed at him, and stood to tug Jisung away from Minho.

"Jisung, why are you still hanging out with this dude? He's so mean," Hyunjin complained, and Jisung grinned devilishly as Hyunjin pulled him into a hug. He let go of Jisung first, but Jisung hung on, collapsing himself dramatically into Hyunjin's chest with a sigh and nearly toppling the two of them over.

"He's keeping me held hostage on that broken down ship of his," Jisung complained, swooning exaggeratedly into Hyunjin's arms. "Hyunjin, help me, rescue me from this... This brute! This terrible, wicked man!"

Minho just watched the two of them play out their dramatics together for a few more moments, Jisung playing the perfect part of the damsel in distress while Hyunjin proclaimed his promises of rescue. Eventually, his patience ran out, and he sighed, catching the attention of the two younger men. "Are you done?" he asked, as Jisung straightened up from where he was being held up from his swaying in Hyunjin's arms. "We actually do need Hyunjin to fix the ship, and I want to try and get things done before sundown."

Hyunjin just sighed, letting Jisung hop back over to Minho's side, his hand coming to hold onto Minho's arm automatically. "You'll learn how to have fun with us one day," Hyunjin commented, though he moved to walk into his workshop, gesturing for Minho and Jisung to follow him. "What is it this time?" he asked, picking his way through the organized chaos of his workspace, leaving the other two to trail behind. "Engines? The hull? Control panel?"

"Landing gear," Minho supplied, and Hyunjin let out a noise of understanding, changing course through his workshop and heading for a shelving unit filled with unlabeled boxes. "We think someone shot the panel when we were finishing our last mission, so it won't deploy when we need it to."

Hyunjin paused, his hand in one of the boxes, and looked at them with furrowed brows. "Wait," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. "How did you two manage to land here, then?"

Jisung turned to give Minho a disapproving look, eyebrows raised, and Minho was reminded of all the curses Jisung had flung at him as he tried to pull off the gentlest crash landing possible in the desert on the outskirts of the Lower Capital. "Not important," Minho settled on, unable to stop his smile when Jisung looked away with a huff.

Hyunjin just laughed again, resuming his rummaging through the boxes to gather the stuff he would need. "Okay, okay," he said goodnaturedly, gathering enough supplies in his arms before moving towards one of the countertops. He dumped tools and metals on there before going to grab a small crate to carry them all in, sweeping them off the counter and into the box carelessly. Jisung and Minho flinched in tandem at the clanging sounds they made when they landed. "I won't pry, you know me. I'll give you a quote when I see the damage, alright?"

"That's fine with us!" Jisung said cheerily, then turned to look at Minho. "If you take Hyunjin to the ship, I can go grab the route for our next visit from Jeongin, since he gave me his new address," he offered, "and I promise I won't buy anything crazy on the way there or back. Especially not fried meat."

"Wait, hold on," Hyunjin called from across the office. "You're leaving me with  _ him _ ? What if he finally loses it and murders me?"

Jisung waved a hand at Hyunjin dismissively. "We don't kill people, that's not how we work," he assured, blasé, then patted his hand on Minho's chest. Minho looked over to find Jisung looking at him with hopeful eyes, a glowing smile on his face. "Right?" he prompted, and Minho hoped Jisung couldn't feel the way that his heart rate picked up speed at the close proximity of Jisung's smile.

He cleared his throat, looking at Hyunjin for a moment, before realizing that Hyunjin was watching them with a grin and he turned his gaze to the wall instead. "Right," he agreed, and Jisung laughed, nodding and patting his chest again.

"Good boy," Jisung praised, and Minho swallowed. God, Jisung was going to kill him without even knowing it. "Okay, I'll go find our favourite little brat," he announced, and then he was pulling away from Minho, the older man suddenly feeling like he could breathe again. Jisung waved at the two of them as he picked his way over to the door, his arm swinging wildly. "I'll meet you two when I'm done!" he added, and then he was gone, out the door. Minho watched him make his way happily down the street through the window until he was out of sight, then turned back to find Hyunjin looking at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Minho just sighed, sinking his head into his hands, as Hyunjin burst out into cackling laughter again.

"So," Hyunjin said, not a short time later, once him and Minho were walking through the Lower Capital on their way back to the ship. Minho could already tell by the tone of Hyunjin's voice that the younger man was going to start a conversation that Minho did not want to have. There was a glint in the mechanic's eye that made Minho want to hit him already. "How are you and Jisung?"

"Good," Minho replied simply, hoping to dissuade Hyunjin, but it was a lost cause. Hyunjin gestured for him to continue, and Minho had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Normal," he elaborated, then, at Hyunjin's raised eyebrow, sighed and added, "Friends."

Hyunjin let out a dramatic groan, shaking his head. "Oh Minho, Minho, Minho," he tutted, like a disapproving mother. "You still haven't told him?"

"There's nothing to tell," Minho said quickly, a touch defensive. Hyunjin gave him a disbelieving look. "Hyunjin, seriously."

"If you expect me to believe that you do not have feelings for Jisung," Hyunjin remarked, and Minho sent the other man a sharp look. Jisung could be on these streets, overhearing their conversation, and Hyunjin wasn't making much of an attempt to keep his voice down. Even despite Minho's glare, though, Hyunjin continued on. "Then there's no such thing as love and there never has been."

Minho rolled his eyes at Hyunjin's dramatics. "Believe what you want," he told Hyunjin, who scoffed loudly. Minho clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead to avoid seeing the unimpressed look Hyunjin was inevitably going to give him.

Minho was a liar. He had feelings for Jisung, absolutely. He knew himself well enough to know that the skipping feeling in his chest whenever Jisung got too close, the warmth that bloomed inside him whenever he made Jisung smile, was beyond what people felt for friends. It hadn't taken long after first meeting for Jisung for these feelings to develop, and Minho had been facing them every day for the last two years, seeing Jisung from the moment he woke up to the second he went to bed at night. He was confronted by them at all times, living in the same space as Jisung, seeing every side of him no matter how much Jisung tended to hide his sadness and pain away at times. Because there were always nights where it would be just a bit too much, where Jisung would knock on his door long after they were supposed to have gone to bed, would slide under the covers and lay next to Minho in silence as Minho's fingers traced along the skin of his back, mapping the old burn scars, the muscles that curved under Jisung's skin, the curve of his shoulder blades and collarbones. It filled up Minho's chest every time Jisung was around, but Minho was always good at smiling through pain— so he kept it bottled in, kept his feelings close to his heart, and made sure that Jisung couldn't know.

It's not that Minho didn't want to be with Jisung in that way. He did, absolutely. Considering the way Jisung acted around him, Jisung probably wanted to as well. Minho wasn't stupid— he'd seen the way Jisung looked at him, when he thought Minho might not notice. The attraction and the tension between them was undeniable, cracking through the air like a live wire. But as much as Minho wanted Jisung, felt the need to grab him tingling in the tips of his fingers, the weight of it so heavy he ached, he couldn't tell Jisung. Because Minho couldn't give Jisung the life he wanted, and Jisung deserved everything he wanted and more.

Jisung had been a vagrant his whole life; Minho knew that much. He had no family that he knew of, no support system around him, so he'd done what he needed to do to survive. He'd begged on the street until he was old enough to know what work was, and then had taken whatever sort of work he could get. He'd worked hard jobs, manual labour, work that no one wanted to do. He carried the marks of that with him now— hands that were rough and calloused, body strung full of efficient wires of lean muscles. Jisung had hitch-hiked from planet to planet; when work ran out on one, he'd find a way to get to a new one. When Minho had found him, he was working on a desert planet, mining some sort of metal that he didn't even know what it was. Minho was out on a hit for Jisung's boss, and after the job was done, Jisung approached him, lost and with nowhere to go, begging Minho to take him with him. He'd make himself useful, he promised— he could navigate, he knew people, he could make light repairs on the ship. Minho had taken him in, and Jisung, true to his word, had made himself useful, incredibly so. He also made his way into Minho's heart.

Now, though, the life of a vagrant had taken its mental toll on Jisung. The younger man had never had a home, not like Minho had, the small, struggling life of him and his mother before he saved up enough to get his ship and escape the dead end life he was in. Jisung had never had anything like that before, no home, no family— and he wanted it, desperately. It was never something he asked for directly, never something that he brought up as an option for Minho and himself, but it was something that bled into their conversations from time to time, little pieces of hope, little confessions that let Minho know. Comments of how he'd like to have a real home someday, when he'd heard from Jeongin that the young navigator had gotten his own place. An "I wish we could visit here more often" whenever Minho would take him to his favourite restaurant on the Lower Capital for dinner, a hole-in-the-wall with shitty decor but great food that Jisung absolutely loved. The way Jisung would look longingly at families they passed in the street, couples holding hands, going about their normal, grounded lives. It was clear what Jisung wanted, and it was clear to Minho that he'd never be able to give him that.

Jisung had brought it up to him just once, after a mission that had gone particularly awry. Both of them had gotten injured, and their ship had taken a beating; they'd had to make an emergency landing at a space station nearby as they were worried their ship would break down in dead space and leave them stranded. Jisung hadn't been hurt too bad— just a scape here and there, one of his hands nicked up where he'd had to punch through a window and got cut by the broken glass. Minho had received the brunt of it, and then one of his wounds had gotten infected, so it'd taken him out for a couple days until he felt well enough to pilot the ship again. Jisung had taken care of him during that time, cleaning all of Minho's wounds, bringing him food, staying next to him throughout the night in case Minho needed anything.

The thought had come up one night then, when Minho was in pain and couldn't sleep and Jisung, in his worry, had stayed up with him. "Do you ever think..." Jisung had murmured, and Minho had blinked his eyes open to see Jisung curled up, a knee to his chest, looking so small in the dark. "Do you ever think we should just... stop doing this?"

"Doing what?" Minho had asked. His voice had cracked, his throat dry— Jisung had reached out and grabbed the glass of water he'd left on the nightstand without Minho having to ask, helping him take a sip. He'd only answered once Minho was comfortable again, laying down against the pillows.

"All of this," Jisung had said, and then the room had been coated in heavy, weighted silence. Not the type that was a comfort, just two people sharing space, but one that felt like a glass box, waiting to crack. Jisung had continued anyway. "Bounty hunting. Stealing. Putting our lives in danger. Do you ever think we should just... stop?"

Minho hadn't answered that night. He feigned exhaustion, pretending to fall asleep, but Minho knew Jisung wasn't stupid enough to fall for something like that— they'd spent too many nights in the same bed, familiar with each others' sleeping habits. But Jisung hadn't pushed him, hadn't brought it up again, and the question had remained unanswered, floating between them like a dead leaf on still waters.

Minho couldn't say no to Jisung. He couldn't tear up that hope, the thought in Jisung's mind that one day, Minho might settle down. One day, they might be able to have a normal life together, not always on the run, not always below the radar, not always treading the line between the right and wrong side of the law. Because he knew, selfishly, if he told Jisung no, Jisung might leave him, and then Minho would be alone again. He'd spent enough time alone to know that the endless, obsidian voice of space felt infinitely more vast without someone to travel it with, and Minho wasn't sure if he could ever go back to it again.

Now, though, he had to swallow down his feelings. He wanted to keep Jisung by his side, even if it hurt him. Even if neither of them could get what they truly wanted, at least they had each other.

Hyunjin sighing snapped Minho out of his thoughts. Abruptly, he realized they were already approaching the edge of the Lower Capital, nearing the wasteland on the outskirts that Minho had crash-landed his and Jisung's ship into. "Have you found out anything new?" Hyunjin asked, and Minho gave him a blank look, which Hyunjin returned with a level stare. "About your mother," Hyunjin added, and Minho looked away.

"I haven't," Minho murmured in response. Hyunjin just nodded, and then the two of them stepped outside of the borders of the city, the silence hanging between them.

* * *

"Well, isn't this swanky!" Jisung praised as he walked into Jeongin's new base of operations, the narrow room packed to the brim with computers and data. It was hardly much of a space for anyone to work— between all the screens and servers, the space was hardly enough to hold more than two or three people— but it was infinitely better than Jeongin's old workspace, doing his dealings out of his bedroom in his parents home. At the back of the room, behind all of the information tech, Jisung could see a small makeshift kitchen, with a short fridge, a burner, and a sink, along with a door to what Jisung assumed was a bathroom and a ladder leading up to a loft. "Our little baby, moving on up! Look at you!"

Jeongin laughed, flustered, but Jisung could tell how proud the young man was— it was rolling off of him in waves. Jisung had known Jeongin for years, had seen first hand how much time he spent collecting and assembling routes and data; first, from his parents' travels on merchant ships across the galaxy, and then from wider networks, expanding until it reached the size it was now. He'd truly built himself from the ground up, and Jisung couldn't be happier for him. "It's nothing much," he tried to say, but Jisung waved it off, shaking his head.

"It's incredible," he assured, patting Jeongin's shoulder, and the young man ducked his head bashfully. Jisung's heart was so warm. "You've done great."

Jeongin let out a laugh, ducking away from Jisung's touch to move further into the unit. He dropped onto a hovering stool, sliding across the room towards the farthest screen from the door as the stool glided above the mess of wires snaking across the floor. Jeongin relied on both a mix of old and new technology for his business, and it was refreshing to see something physical, rather than the hologram screens and microscopic technologies that most people relied on these days. "It's thanks to generous contributions from people like you," he said, flashing Jisung a wink from across the room, and Jisung scoffed, knowing the younger man was referring to the high prices he charged for his business. "Speaking of which," Jeongin added, turning to tap at the screen. "Would you and your boyfriend care to make another payment? I'm assuming that's why you've dropped by?"

Jisung felt his heart stutter a bit painfully at Jeongin's choice of words, stepping over a thick coil of wires to take a seat on the other stool in the room. "Not my boyfriend," he corrected, though it came out a bit forlorn— Jeongin gave him a glance at that, eyebrows raised, as Jisung pushed his stool closer to Jeongin. "But yes, that is why I'm here, as much as I wish it was just to visit my favourite little navigator."

The corners of Jeongin's lips quirked up at the compliment, and Jisung smiled. Jeongin was adorable. His smile fell, though, at Jeongin's next words. "You want him to be, though, right?" he asked, looking at Jisung again. "Your boyfriend?"

Jisung looked away, pursing his lips for a moment. "Minho's not interested in stuff like that," he said vaguely, and Jeongin sighed, turning back to the screen.

"He's not interested because he told you he's not, or because you just assume he's not?" Jeongin asked, typing something away on the screen. He held a hand out to Jisung expectantly, and Jisung handed him his tablet, the coordinates for his and Minho's next mission already pulled up on the screen. Jeongin glanced between it and the screen as he typed in the coordinates.

"You know," Jisung said casually, "I just came here for some routes, not a therapy session." Jeongin chuckled, handing Jisung's tablet back to him as a map popped up on his screen.

"It's part of the service you're paying for," Jeongin quipped, and Jisung rolled his eyes. "Plus, you've known me too long to expect anything less. So?" He gestured for Jisung to talk with one hand, the other tapping away at the screen. "Go on. Tell me about all your boyfriend-not-boyfriend issues."

Jisung let out a sigh, pressing his face into his hands as Jeongin snickered. As much as he hated it, Jeongin was right— Jisung had known the younger man for too long to keep anything from him. He'd met Jeongin when the two of them were so young they couldn't be considered anything more than boys, both of them aboard the same ship full of merchants travelling the galaxy to sell their wares. Jeongin had been there as a tag-along for his parents, a cute face to draw in business or sympathy— whatever helped them out. Jisung had managed to get picked up by a salesman specializing in particularly shoddy, cheap technology; he'd met the man on his home planet while begging on the street, and the man had offered him a place to stay and warm meals in return for Jisung's help with his wares. The two of them were the only people of remotely similar age on the entire ship, so they'd made friends with each other as they travelled the galaxy, the ship full of salespeople moving from planet to planet to find business. When Jeongin's parents finally decided to leave the ship, they had almost taken Jisung with them— the other boy had no family to speak of, having been left alone so young that Jisung couldn't even remember them. But the man Jisung was working for had refused to give him up, and Jeongin's family couldn't quite afford another mouth to feed anyways; so Jeongin and his family had left the ship, and Jisung had stayed on board, carrying supplies and putting together cheap contraptions of metal and plastic. The two of them had only met again years later, when Jeongin's family had stopped their migrant days and Jisung had already moved on through several jobs, until Jisung winded up working in the lower part of the Capital for a place that ran illegal bike races. They'd met completely by happenstance, simply recognizing each other on the street, but the look of shock and delight on Jeongin's face when he saw Jeongin again years later was something Jisung would never forget.

Unfortunately, such a long standing relationship meant that Jeongin was in every single bit of Jisung's business— both in terms of his job and his personal life— and knew everything about his life with Minho. "We haven't talked about anything," Jisung began tiredly, ignoring Jeongin's snide remark of  _ as usual, _ "but he lets me sleep in his bed sometimes, and he treats me to my favourite dinners when we have money. And— and I dunno," Jisung shrugged. "It's not anything like that, I don't think."

"Well it sounds like that, to me," Jeongin replied. He brought both hands to the screen, pinching the image to zoom out, drawing a line across it, then zooming in again. "You don't usually sleep in the same bed as someone you don't have feelings for."

Jisung laughed, though it was a bit bitter. "Minho's too focused on work to have feelings for anyone," he tried to reason, but Jeongin scoffed. Jisung looked away as Jeongin turned away from the screen to face him.

"Jisung, you're the only person that Minho has had on his ship since his mom was killed," Jeongin reminded, and Jisung twisted his hands together. "You can be kind of stupid, but not  _ that _ stupid."

"Hey, I'm not stupid at all," Jisung fired back, then spluttered when Jeongin raised an eyebrow at him, spinning his stool back towards the screen. "Hey!"

Jeongin tapped at the screen a few more times, then pushed his stool back. Jisung's tablet pinged, lighting up with the notification of the route, locked behind a payment invoice for Jeongin's services. "If you're not stupid, then tell Minho how you feel about him," he taunted, hopping off his stool and picking his way to the kitchen at the back of the unit. He opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of some brand of cola Jisung didn't recognize and waving it at Jisung. "Want one?"

"What I want is for you to stop psychoanalyzing me every time I see you!" Jisung fired back, angrily tapping away at his tablet screen to transfer the money to Jeongin's account. The map loaded as soon as the transaction went through, and Jisung sighed as he watched the number in his and Minho's shared business account deplete.

"Not gonna happen~" Jeongin sang gleefully, kicking the fridge door shut and skipping back over to where Jisung was sitting. He hopped up onto one of the desks there, popping the cap off the cola bottle to take a sip. "So," he said with a taunting grin. "You two just finished a mission, right? What date are you two gonna go on this time?"

Jisung threw his hands up in the air, hopping off the stool and hurrying to the door. "I'm not talking to you anymore!" he exclaimed as he retreated hurriedly, ignoring Jeongin's laughter following him. "I'm leaving! Goodbye!"

"Be safe!" Jeongin called after him as Jisung stepped out the door. If Jisung sank to the floor at the thought of a date with Minho just a few steps outside of Jeongin's door, the younger man didn't need to know.

* * *

Seungmin tugged at the stiff knot of his tie as he waited for the meeting to start, the starched collar of his shirt chafing against his neck. He always hated these things. Galactic meetings were always filled with way too much bureaucracy of the worst kind to Seungmin, and exposed him to a veritable ton of people that Seungmin was supposed to remember the names, faces, political affiliations and occupations of, despite not caring about most of them. Thankfully, meetings like this that Seungmin was required to attend were few and far between— as a member of the investigative committee, there were enough staff with the same role as him that (thankfully) not all of them were required to attend. But there was just enough time in between them that Seungmin forgot exactly how much he hated these things, only to be viscerally reminded the second he set foot into the conference hall.

A conference hall was one word to describe the room this meeting would be held in, but frankly, it resembled an arena more than anything else. For meetings of this size, holding delegates from across the galaxy, the amount of space required for them all to fit comfortably was massive, resulting in a coliseum like structure, the walls all lined with pods for delegates, representatives, politicians and other officials to sit in. In the centre of the coliseum was a massive, cylindrical screen, slowly rotating, which would show the image of whoever was speaking at that moment during the meeting. Each pod was equipped with speakers for listening in, as well as a small, automated, motion-tracking camera and microphone for the people speaking in that pod to speak into. It wasn’t as high tech as some other parts of the galaxy, but it was well-maintained and did its job, so it had been left as is.

It felt like it took ages for Seungmin to finish greeting all of the people he had met along the way to his pod and actually step inside-- part of him regretted coming early, as so many people had been milling about, but he couldn’t risk being late to a meeting such as this. When he stepped inside the pod, there were a few other members of the galactic investigative committee inside, including his favourite coworker, Wonpil.

Wonpil had a few years on him, both in age and in work experience, but with how fast Seungmin had climbed the ladder of command, there wasn’t much of a difference between them in terms of rank. It meant Seungmin got to work quite closely with Wonpil most of the time, and it was a treat. Wonpil didn’t have the hard, logical way of thinking and acting on the job like most investigators were expected to, but what some may have considered a deficit was, at least in Seungmin's opinion, Wonpil’s strength. He was able to keep the living aspect of investigations at the forefront of his actions and think in terms of emotions, and that was something that Seungmin respected. In work like his, where he was being praised for exploring the suffering of others and the logic of things as an outsider, someone like Wonpil was refreshing. It was a quality that Seungmin wanted to carry into his own work, even though it hadn’t helped Wonpil rise in rank, because it affected him in a moral way that little others could.

“Hey, you made it,” Wonpil said as Seungmin came to sit beside him, patting a long-fingered hand onto Seungmin’s knee. Seungmin was pleased to see that Wonpil’s own tie had already been taken off and placed onto his lap, the top couple buttons of his shirt undone as well. Seungmin took that as a go-ahead to loosen his own tie, sinking in his seat with a sigh, and Wonpil laughed. “Guess you had fun on the way here?” he teased goodnaturedly.

Seungmin popped open the top button of his shirt, rubbing at where the stiff material of the collar had chafed at his neck. “There’s too many people to remember,” he complained, but Wonpil just stayed grinning despite Seungmin’s obvious suffering. Seungmin turned to look at him with a pout. “How do you always get in here so early? Shouldn’t you still be out there?”

Wonpil shook his head proudly. “I get here super early,” he explained, and Seungmin quirked an eyebrow. “Like, hours early, before most people are here. That way I can come in here and nap.”

Wonpil had said that so jovially that Seungmin almost didn’t realize how catastrophic of a waste of time it was. Soon enough, though, the words sunk in, and he blinked at Wonpil's smiling face. "You come here hours before the meeting," he repeated, trying to make sure he understood everything Wonpil had just said correctly, "and nap?"

"Yeah!" Wonpil replied happily, laughing when Seungmin shook his head. "It's easier to sleep here, anyways," he continued. "My roommate's a drummer, and he wakes me up sometimes. It's nice and quiet here."

Okay, at least that made some sense. If Wonpil wasn't spending his time sleeping when he should be, at least he could catch up on it here. Still, though— Seungmin could never do it himself. "Sure," he replied, sinking down in his seat when Wonpil laughed at him again.

It wasn't too long until the meeting started; Seungmin had arrived about twenty minutes early, and from chit-chatting with Wonpil, those minutes passed by quickly. The two of them made sure to fix their shirts and ties before things started, correcting their slumped posture as well, and before Seungmin knew it, the Capital's anthem was playing to signal the start of the meeting.

Seungmin had gone into the meeting without much of an idea as to what would happen. He'd learned in his studies and on-the-job education and training about humanitarian crises, but things like that always seemed so far away from Seungmin's realm of possibility. With all of the committees and coalitions in place to ensure peace across the galaxy, the idea of something as terrible and on as large of a scale as a humanitarian crisis occurring seemed absurd. But the meeting began with an announcement that confirmed what Seungmin had received a message about— there were allegations of a humanitarian crisis on one of the economic hubs of the galaxy, and the details would be relayed in this meeting.

"Figured it would be there," Wonpil muttered, and Seungmin glanced over at his colleague to see Wonpil looking at the screen with a displeased expression. When Seungmin quirked an eyebrow, Wonpil just sighed, shaking his head slightly. "They have absolute control over the economy. Of course they would want absolute power," he continued darkly, "and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Seungmin felt a chill run down his spine. In his time working with Wonpil, and all of the terrible things they had seen, he had never seen his colleague look so dark before. But Seungmin didn't have time to continue before there was the sound of a throat clearing, and the screen was switching to another man, surprisingly young, standing in his own pod to begin his announcement.

Just the image of him sent ripples across the entire coliseum, every pod sparking in muted conversation at who they saw on the screen. Seungmin's own was no exception— next to him, Wonpil sat bolt upright, and his colleagues around him broke out in whispers. Seungmin himself was equally shocked. Of all people or planets he expected to be involved, this was so low on his list that he wouldn't have considered it in a million years. "Wait," he whispered to Wonpil, "is that..?"

"That's Prince Woojin," Wonpil answered, his eyes wide. Despite the clamour around the coliseum, the prince stood still on the screen, regal and poised. "What the  _ hell _ is going on?"

Seungmin knew his history better than most, because of his job, and he was just as confused as Wonpil. Prince Woojin, and the planet he ruled, had been known for centuries as the most peaceful planet in the galaxy. They were the sole planet orbiting their star, lightyears away from all the others, which kept them separated from any type of conflict going on in other areas of the galaxy's reaches. Within their planet, they were also known for peace— the monarchy had been ruling for so long that records that showed the start of their reign no longer existed. And the current leading monarch, Prince Woojin, was known in particular for his diplomacy and peace. For him to be involved in this at all was a shock to everyone present.

The prince didn't call for attention or for the whispers to stop— Prince Woojin just waited silently, poised at the front of the pod, until the steady gaze of the monarch pressured everyone else into silence. The noise trickled out gradually, each group falling quiet until the entire coliseum was bathed in silence. "Thank you for gathering here on such short notice," the prince said calmly. His hands rested on the edge of the rail in front of him, barring those in the pod from venturing too close to the open edge. "However, this meeting is of dire importance."

The tight, nervous feeling in Seungmin's throat had nothing to do with the snug knot of his tie when Woojin said, "I would like to formally announce an inquest into Luyten for a suspected genocide."

Immediately, the arena erupted into noise again, shocked gasps and cries of outrage bouncing throughout the walls. Seungmin himself couldn't make a noise— he was in shock.  _ Genocide _ . A genocide had happened? Here, in their peaceful pocket of the universe? Seungmin felt sick at the thought.

It took longer for the arena to quiet this time, but Prince Woojin simply waited again with a glacier's patience, until every pod was silent again and waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Eight days ago," the prince began, his voice even and his face impassive, "an escape pod crashed into the plains near the capital region of our planet. The escape pod had come from Luyten, and carried a sole passenger." Woojin glanced to the left of him for a moment, and from the way the camera was angled, Seungmin could just catch a partial glimpse of someone sitting next to him, clad in all black, the white sling holding their arm and the white bandage on the side of their face and neck a stark contrast against the fabric of their clothing.

"The passenger had been injured prior to entering the escape pod, and lost consciousness in the crash," Woojin continued, looking back at the camera again. "When he regained consciousness a few days later, he explained that he had boarded the escape pod to escape a genocide that occured on his planet. He had been shot trying to escape."

Seungmin felt a hollow feeling in his stomach as he listened to the details, all relayed by Prince Woojin in such a calm and collected manner, despite the horror of the events he was describing. "The independently-governed region that the passenger was a resident of had been attacked by the planet's military for failing to surrender control of their region, despite the planet's constitution granting them full and independent control of their island. The passenger witnessed people being killed indiscriminately, including women and children." Woojin paused for a moment there, glancing at the person next to him again. Through the camera feed, Seungmin could see their shoulder shaking. "Including their own family," Woojin added solemnly.

A heavy silence sat upon the entire arena for a few moments, before the prince continued again. "Our planet's forensic investigators have confirmed that the injuries suffered by the passenger are consistent with the events described, and were not self inflicted," he continued. "There was also structural damage to the pod consistent with being shot at by the same guns that injured the passenger. The pod's make and design are also consistent with pod's of the planet, and that region specifically. Therefore," Woojin seemed to straighten up a bit then, chin up, chest out, "we would like to formally demand an inquest into Luyten on suspicion of a genocide against a targeted group of individuals residing on their own planet."

A small murmur passed through the coliseum as Woojin sat down, his announcement concluded. The camera switched to the pod with the delegates of Luyten, and Seungmin gripped the edge of his seat. Of all the people in the pod, there was not a hint of shock or nerves on anyone's face. The leader of the planet himself sat there, front and centre, and his face showed no strong emotion at any of the claims made by Prince Woojin. In fact, the president even looked at ease, one leg crossed over the other, ankle on knee, his hands folded in his lap. The sight of it made Seungmin feel sick.

"We accept your demand, Your Highness," the man said, and Seungmin felt himself recoil. He hadn't even stood up to speak, let alone refute the claims or defend himself. Anger burned up inside him, hot and molten as the man continued. "We have nothing to hide."

There was a hesitation for a few moments after that, the entire arena waiting with bated breath to see if any defense would be made. When it was clear nothing would come, though, the camera switched to the pod Seungmin was in— he sat up straight as the president of the investigative committee, seated a few rows in front of him, stood to speak to the camera.

"As no objections were brought forth, the inquest will proceed," Seungmin's boss said calmly. Seungmin had only spoken to the president on a few occasions— usually, they worked within their own divisions, with Seungmin reporting to the head of his unit, a stern-looking but reasonable man named Jaebeom. However, he had no problems with the president. Jinyoung Park had moved up the ranks like Seungmin had, joining the investigative committee then climbing the ladder until he was made elected president by committee members, and Seungmin respected the older man for his hard work and years of service. "The investigative committee will select a unit of members to lead the investigation," the president continued. "The announcement of members will be given within twenty-four hours. We will commence the investigation twenty-four hours from that announcement."

The meeting was adjourned shortly after that. Despite the meeting being over, though, Seungmin knew the work of the investigative committee was only beginning. Everyone in their pod waited with bated breath as the president stood up at the front of the pod, then turned to face them all. "Well," he said with a sigh, "this is something new for us, and there isn't much of a precedent for these investigations, so I figured I might as well ask. Does anyone feel confident enough in their abilities to participate in this investigation?"

A tense stillness fell over the pod then. Seungmin looked around to see no one moving, no one talking, no one even looking at each other. Next to him, Wonpil's eyes were on the ground, his expression drawn.

Seungmin slowly raised his hand.

Heads turned towards him at his movement, but Seungmin didn't look at any of them, simply looking at Jinyoung. Next to him, he could feel Wonpil's gaze boring into his skull. "Yes, sir," Seungmin said steadily, looking right at his boss. The president was looking at him with an expression Seungmin couldn't read. "I would like to volunteer myself as part of the unit for this investigation."

The president was silent for a moment, then let out a hum. "Seungmin Kim, is that right?" He asked, and Seungmin nodded. His chest was shaking with the force of his heartbeat. The president smiled. "I've heard your name brought up favourably by many other members of the committee," Jinyoung complimented, and despite not working closely with the man before, Seungmin felt his chest swell with pride. He worked hard at his job— to be recognized by the president was an honour.

"I was hoping you would volunteer," the president admitted with a laugh, and Seungmin tried his best not to smile at the praise. "I'll have to see which other members of the committee can participate in the investigation before making the final call, but consider yourself part of the unit."

Seungmin let himself smile when Jinyoung moved on to asking for more volunteers, folding his hands in his lap. He wasn't excited about what he was investigating— a genocide was horrible, no doubt, and Seungmin knew that the things he would witness on this investigation were likely to stick with him for the rest of his life. But the opportunity to bring justice for people on such a large scale spurred him on. Seungmin knew himself— there's no way he could have sat back and remained uninvolved when something so terrible had occurred. He took this personally— he needed to make things right.

("You're crazy," Wonpil said, once the committee had finished discussing and everyone was leaving the meeting. Seungmin had been the only volunteer, and everyone's heads turned to look at him as they walked past him. Seungmin didn't look at any of them. "You know that right? You volunteered to investigate a genocide. You're actually crazy."

"Not crazy," Seungmin said as him and Wonpil walked out side by side, collars unbuttoned and ties loosened now that they could escape the coliseum. "I just care too much to let something like this go.")

* * *

Changbin listened to the sound of the shower running from down the hall, leaned up against the counter of his ship's makeshift kitchen. Felix had seemed a bit better than yesterday when Changbin had gone to check on him in the morning, though the young man's eyes were still red and a bit puffy from the crying. When he'd offered the shower to Felix, however, he had jumped at the opportunity, eagerly accepting the towel and clean clothes Changbin had given him and letting Changbin lead him to the bathroom. Changbin had given him privacy while he washed up, telling the other man to take his time and use whatever he found in Changbin's quite sparing shower caddy, and left to prepare some food for the two of them. Changbin didn't have much to offer by way of comfort, but after what Felix had told him yesterday, Changbin wanted to do whatever he could to help the other man. Which is how he found his tablet in his hand, his thumb hovering over Jeongin's contact.

Felix looked like he had gotten some rest, at least, but Changbin hadn't slept a wink. He'd sat at the front of the ship the entire time, looking out through the window into the dark of space that they were travelling through on auto-pilot. Felix's words had echoed in his mind for hours, and the image of Felix's bruised back curled up in the other room was burned on the back of his eyelids. Changbin was enabling that. Even if he didn't want to, his actions were enabling that. Even if it lined his pockets with a hefty sum, Changbin was enabling some assholes out there to kill someone's family and kidnap them. For money.

It wasn't worth it.

The phone only rang two times before Jeongin picked up. "Hey, Jeongin," Changbin said, tablet pressed to his ear. Down the hall, he heard the shower turn off. "Change of plans. Can you route me to the Capital?"


	3. part two

Felix grabbed for the towel when he turned off the water, snatching the fluffy fabric off the rack and wrapping it around his cooling skin. The water for the shower hadn't been that warm— Changbin had warned him ahead of time that it wouldn't be, so he wasn't shocked— but despite the cool temperature, it had felt amazing to finally wash off all of the things that had happened to him. He'd scrubbed his skin until it hurt under the spray, raw and sensitive, but Felix didn't care. This was what he needed— a chance to wash away what he'd been through, and a chance to move forward.

Felix knew, though, in the back of his mind, that this wasn't the end. The way forward wasn't any better than the past. The niceness Changbin was showing him— helping him when he was injured, talking to him, letting him spend time to himself in a room that didn't feel like a jail cell— it was the last gasp of freedom that Felix would likely get. His throat felt tight as he thought about what things had been like before coming aboard Changbin's ship, locked in a dark and empty room. It hadn't been long, or at least Felix thought; it was hard to tell time in space, somewhere with no rhythm, no rising and setting of the sun to tell him where he was in time. But it was long enough that Felix couldn't stand the thought of going back to something like that again, being locked away— even the tight walls of the shower in Changbin's bathroom made his head spin and his stomach churn nervously.

Felix stepped out of the shower hurriedly, finding himself face to face with a mirror. It was a bit foggy from the steam— not as much as it would have been if the shower had actually been hot, but enough that Felix's reflection was murky with the fog. For a second, Felix was grateful; he didn't want to see what he looked like now. But slowly, the dreadful curiosity sunk its claws into his chest, and Felix raised a hand to wipe away the steam.

He'd avoided his reflection getting in, for the most part. He'd kept his head down, stripped out of his dirty clothes as fast as he could, and hopped under the spray. Now, though, the image of himself in the mirror felt like a confrontation, the proof that the life Felix lived before was gone. His eyes were red and bloodshot, heavy, purpling bags weighing underneath them. His hair was clean now, finally— Felix didn't want to imagine what it had looked like before— but it hung limp across his forehead, the sandy blonde strands dull. He hadn't lost much weight since he'd been taken, but Felix was small enough that it showed; his chin was pointed now, his cheeks more hollow, and his collarbones jut out like daggers from his skin.

Felix tilted his head and reached up, slowly pulling back the corner of the bandage Changbin had put on the wound on his head. A gash, red and angry, granulated and messy while trying to heal itself, cut across his temple, spread up to his forehead and down to his cheekbone. When he turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder, Felix could see the bruises Changbin had tried to help treat, the purples and blues making the skin of his back a murky canvas.

Felix closed his eyes as nausea gripped his throat, his shoulders shuddering. This was his future, he realized vaguely. This is the fate that he was going to get transported to. No freedom, no friends, no family. Alone, bruised and battered, wishing he was anywhere but here.

Drying himself off and getting dressed was a painful process. His back hurt; every movement Felix made seemed to pull or press against a bruise, the sharp ache stealing his breath on more than one occasion. He couldn't dry his hair properly, not without touching the gash on his head, so Felix just put the towel around his shoulders, his hair dripping down his neck. The clothes Changbin had given him didn't quite fit, either. Felix was a bit taller, but Changbin was built broader and thicker; Felix had to pull the drawstring on the pants as tight as possible to fit his waist, but the leg length cut short, his ankles bare. Still, it was better than the clothes Felix had been wearing before— the same clothes he had on when he was taken, caked in dirt and splattered with his own blood. Felix wanted to throw them out, burn them, never see them again, but they were the only thing he had that tied him back to his home. He gripped them tightly in his arms, fists clenched into the fabric as he finally stepped out of the bathroom.

Seeming to have heard the sound of the door opening, Changbin's head peeked around the corner just as Felix stepped out. "Hey," he said, stepping out from around the corner and moving a bit closer to Felix, but not too close. The way he looked at Felix felt like someone watching an animal that could pounce at any moment. It made Felix uncomfortable, though he supposed, after the way Felix broke down the previous night, Changbin was rightfully cautious. As it stood, though, Changbin just gestured at the dirty clothes in Felix's arms. "Do you— do you want to keep those?" he asked uncertainly. "I can wash them for you, or if... If you don't want them anymore, I can—"

"I want them," Felix said suddenly, the words escaping them before he could really process what he had said. He looked down at the bundled fabric in his arms; the dirtied shirt he'd bought one afternoon with his brother, the pants his mother had taken him to buy when Felix seemed to grow three inches overnight. God, they were dead now, the places and the people and everything that Felix held dear. He swallowed around the lump in his throat— don't cry again. "If you can wash them, though," he added, looking up to find Changbin regarding him with an expression Felix couldn't quite discern— something between sympathy and pity. "That... That'd be good."

Changbin was quick to nod. He held his hands out for Felix to give him the clothes, waited patiently as Felix slowly unclenched his fists, placing the bundled up fabric in Changbin's arms. "I can do that," Changbin assured, giving Felix a small smile, one that Felix couldn't manage to give back.

Changbin glanced over his shoulder in the direction he had come from. "You can go on that way, into the kitchen," he told Felix, and Felix's eyes widened slightly. "I'm just gonna put these with the rest of the stuff that needs washing, okay?"

"The kitchen?" Felix asked, eyebrows furrowed. Changbin was looking at him with a neutral expression, and Felix's heartbeat kicked up. Was this a test? "By myself?"

Changbin seemed to realize why Felix was surprised then, and let out a little noise himself. "Oh," he said, then shrugged after a pause. "I trust that you aren't going to knife me when I'm not looking," he explained, and Felix felt like he'd been given whiplash. Changbin  _ trusted _ him? "So go ahead. I don't mind."

Felix hesitated in the doorway, waiting for any sign that Changbin would take his word back, that this was just some sort of trick. But Changbin just stood there, looking at Felix expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, slowly, Felix made his way towards the direction he had indicated, looking back over his shoulder at Changbin the whole time. Changbin gestured him onwards, until he seemed satisfied that Felix wasn't going to stop and turn around; then, the other man turned away, stepping into a room next to the bathroom.

When Felix walked into the kitchen— which honestly, wasn't much of a kitchen, just some stacking cabinets of storage space, a hot plate, a freezer, and a microwave— Felix found two plates on the counter, each with food on them. It wasn't much different from the night before— a piece of hard, grainy bread, some sort of prepackaged fruit mix meant to last for long travel, and a few chunks of cured meat— but it was food. It was Changbin's food that he had prepared for Felix, both of them with the same meal, not scraps of whatever Changbin didn't want. What Changbin had and what Felix had were equal.

Felix stared at the plates, feeling something swirling in his chest that he couldn't place. What Changbin had done wasn't anything extraordinary, by most people's definition— if you had someone staying in the same space as you, most people would prepare enough food for both of you to eat. But Felix wasn't a guest, wasn't a visitor who was just spending time on Changbin's ship. Changbin was supposed to be smuggling him across the galaxy, passing Felix between hands and getting paid in the process. How he treated Felix wasn't supposed to matter— whether Felix spent his time on the ship comfortably or in squalor didn't affect Changbin's paycheque. There wasn't any benefit for Changbin in being nice to Felix. Felix didn't have anything to give him in return for his niceness— no money, no home, no safety. There wasn't any reason for Changbin to go out of his way at all to help Felix; all he had to do was bring Felix across the galaxy, no questions asked. So why—?

"Oh," Changbin's voice jolted Felix out of his thoughts, startling him enough to jump. When Felix turned around, Changbin was standing behind him; he was looking at the plates on the counter as well, clearly having followed Felix's gaze. "Yeah, one of those is for you. I don't know if you'll like it, but there's not many options out here in space."

Felix looked at Changbin for a few more moments, then the food again, then back at Changbin. "You made breakfast," he said weakly, watching as Changbin moved over to where the plates were on the counter, taking one in each hand, "for me?"

"I don't think you can really say I made any of it, since it was all pre-made," Changbin admitted with a bit of a laugh; Felix's eyes were trained on the way his mouth looked, curved up into a smile. "But yeah, it's for you. Do you wanna eat out here, or back in your room?"

_ Your room _ . Felix felt dizzy. He kept looking at the food, then back at Changbin's face again. "I can eat out here?" he asked, his hands hovering uselessly around himself. He felt like he was outside of his body.

Changbin just nodded, jerking his head further into the ship. "I've got a couple chairs over at the front of the ship," he offered. "We can eat there."

"We?" Felix echoed hazily. Changbin was going to eat with him? He hadn't yesterday— but Changbin did need to eat, obviously, and there were two plates in Changbin's hands for a reason. The thought of them doing something so ridiculously normal together, though, with all of the circumstances that led Felix to even being here in the first place, made the thought seem ludicrous.

Changbin seemed to catch onto Felix's line of thinking, then. He sighed, his shoulders seeming to sag a bit with it, and his expression turned sad. "Felix," he called, but Felix shook his head. He couldn't look at Changbin right now. "I don't... I don't know the details of what happened to you before, and— honestly, I don't think I want to. But I'm not gonna be like them. You don't deserve that."

Felix looked at the floor, the cold, reflective metal tiles of the ship. Some part inside of him felt cold and hot all at once. "You don't have any reason to be nice to me," he pointed out quietly, and Changbin sighed again. Felix glanced up to find Changbin just watching him, tired.

"Felix," he said seriously. Felix watched as Changbin turned and set the plates back on the counter, and Felix's stomach twisted. When Changbin turned back towards him, he didn't quite meet Felix's gaze, his arms crossed. "I'm not gonna take you to whatever fucking planet they asked me to."

Something like fear, frigid and icy, gripped Felix's insides. "What?"

Changbin just shook his head. "I can't do that to you," Changbin elaborated, looking off further into the ship. "Fuck, I can't do that to anyone. I don't know what the hell they're gonna do to you. I can't be the person who lets that happen."

Felix felt his hands shake. He didn't understand. Was Changbin going to keep him here forever, on his ship? "What are you doing?" he asked, and his voice quaked hard enough when he asked the question that Changbin looked over in alarm. "What— where—"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Changbin said suddenly, holding his hands out. He took a step towards Felix, but stopped when Felix flinched back. "No, it's not— I have a friend in the Capital, he's gonna help us get there, and we can hide out for a while until they stop looking for us."

Felix listened to Changbin with wide eyes, his breath stalled somewhere in his chest. "The... Capital?" he echoed, and then the words sunk in. "Wait," he choked out, gasping. Changbin was looking at him worriedly, his hands still held out as if waiting for Felix to fall, so he could catch him. "You're... You're helping me escape?"

Changbin nodded quickly, taking another step towards him. Felix could feel his whole body shaking. "I'm not gonna let them hurt you," he assured, so terribly gentle. "It's not worth it. You don't deserve any of that. I— We're gonna get out of this, okay?"

Relief hit Felix like a rocket, exploding in his chest. One second, he was looking at Changbin— the next, he was on his knees on the floor, letting out gasping, heaving, sobbing cries, hands over his face. Changbin's hands were on his shoulders again, just like last night, and Felix cried harder. "Thank you," he wept, the words spilling out of his mouth, wet and heavy. "Thank you, fuck— thank you."

Changbin just hushed him, his hands running along Felix's shoulders and back like he was trying to move all of the pain Felix had been carrying out of him. "Don't worry, don't thank me," he was saying, the words sounding like they were underwater. Everything was wet and sodden with the sadness pouring off of him, like a broken dam. "It's okay, Felix. You're gonna be okay."

Felix moved his hands off his face, reaching out and catching on Changbin's arm. The other man had knelt down in front of Felix, and he didn't move as Felix tipped forward, his face pressing into Changbin's shoulder. His hands just moved around Felix, holding him together as Felix cried.

"You're okay," Changbin's voice sounded, deep and grounding, rumbling in his throat. "You're okay."

* * *

"You know," Hyunjin said as he slid into the seat at the bar next to Jeongin. He slid the other boy's drink along the counter— the same garishly sweet, non-alcoholic concoction as usual— and the other boy snatched it up with a grin. "I don't understand why you're still meeting your clients here, now that you have your own place. Why don't you save your money and meet people there?"

"I don't need everyone in the galaxy finding out where I live," Jeongin pointed out from around the rim of his glass, and Hyunjin let out a hum, nodding. That made sense. "There's shady people out there. Plus, I can always get a free drink here, so." Jeongin waved his hand casually, though there was a cheeky grin on his face. "Stimulating the economy and all that."

Hyunjin snorted, taking a sip of his own drink. "You just enjoy scamming people, be honest," he commented, then laughed at Jeongin's lack of denial, the younger man just shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "I'm surprised people even trust you anymore," Hyunjin continued, swirling his glass around to hear the ice clinking against the sides. He'd gone for something different today, but it was just on the edge of too bitter for him. Not his best choice. "Your rates are crazy."

"They're paying  _ for _ my trust," Jeongin pointed out, pulling out his tablet and resting it on the bartop. He tapped away at it with one hand, the other reaching for his drink again. "No one would pay this amount if they weren't sure I was reliable. And speaking of," Jeongin stopped typing, and Hyunjin looked down as his phone lit up in his hands. "I have a favour to ask you."

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrowed as he lifted his phone up to read the message, and they furrowed even further when he saw the contents. "Changbin and Felix?" he asked, looking between the phone and Jeongin, who looked uncharacteristically serious. He tucked his phone away, knowing he should pay attention to whatever Jeongin was about to say. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Changbin," Jeongin began, tucking his tablet away in his bag again, "is one of my clients. He's currently on the run with someone named Felix, who Changbin was paid to transport for sale after Felix was kidnapped. He couldn't go through with it, so now he's trying to hide from the people who kidnapped Felix and hired him." Jeongin sat back in his chair, and suddenly he looked so much older than he really was. Hyunjin didn't know a lot of the specifics of the kinds of people Jeongin dealt with— after all, his secrecy was one of his selling points— but it only struck him then how much it might be, especially for someone as young as Jeongin.

"I want you to help them," Jeongin finished calmly, "by letting them hide out at your place."

Hyunjin looked at Jeongin for a few moments, feeling his eyes grow wider each second that the words Jeongin just spoke had to sink in. "Wait," Hyunjin said after a prolonged silence, shaking his head. "You have to be kidding. You want me to  _ what? _ "

Jeongin sighed, clearly very put-upon by Hyunjin's confusion. "I can't host them at my place, since there's only enough room for me, and even then that's a stretch," he explained, taking another sip of his drink. The way he knocked the mouthful back made it seem like he was taking a shot, even though Hyunjin knew that there was no alcohol in that glass. "Your place is a lot bigger than mine, and you're someone I trust. So..."

"So..." Hyunjin picked up where Jeongin left off, feeling a bit like he'd just been blindsided even with Jeongin's explanation. "You want me to host fugitives, on the run from some weird kidnapping, human trafficking whatever, in my house. Is that it?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call them fugitives," Jeongin said, looking at Hyunjin from down the bar with a tired expression, "but yes, I want you to host people on the run from some weird kidnapper dudes in your house."

Hyunjin looked at Jeongin for a few more moments, waiting for the moment that Jeongin would say he was joking, but it didn't come. He heard Jeongin sigh as he groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Look, I would host them myself if I had the space," Jeongin said as Hyunjin smothered his face in his hands. "But as it stands, my room is a closet, and yours is big enough that you have a spare bedroom. They'll be keeping it on the down-low, so they won't cause any problems, and they'll pay you for the trouble. So can you please do this favour? To— I don't know, possibly save somebody's life?"

Hyunjin let out a deep, long sigh, resigning himself to his fate. "Well, I can't say no," he said as he picked his head up, and he caught how Jeongin's expression morphed instantly into a smile. "I'm not thrilled about getting involved with this, but if no one else can help..."

"Don't worry," Jeongin assured, waving a hand as he sipped at his drink again. "They won't bring you any trouble, as long as you don't tell anyone that they're there. Keep it very quiet, you know? If the wrong people find out, then there'll be trouble."

"Of course," Hyunjin said, picking up his drink. He hesitated before taking another gulp of it, swallowing it down quickly with a cringe. Definitely too bitter for him. "I would never risk it."

Jeongin let out a satisfied hum, finishing off the rest of his drink. "Good," he chirped, then brandished his empty glass at Hyunjin. "Can you grab me another?" he asked cheekily.

Hyunjin scoffed. "Go get it yourself, you brat," he scolded, but laughed as Jeongin sulkily slid off the stool, moving over to where the bartender was washing glasses to get another drink.

They sat in silence for a few minutes when Jeongin came back— Jeongin happily making his way through his second glass of the same cocktail, while Hyunjin tried his best to finish his. After a few minutes, though, Jeongin let out a small, inquisitive noise, getting Hyunjin's attention. "So," he said, studying Hyunjin, "are you not going to ask for me to pick out anyone today?"

Hyunjin blinked at Jeongin for a few moments, before he felt a flush begin to creep up his neck. Fuck, he hadn't even thought to ask. The desire to meet someone new hadn't struck him at all; it wasn't that Hyunjin was actively thinking about Seungmin, it's just that there was no point in meeting anyone other than Seungmin. Then Hyunjin remembered the promise Seungmin had made the last time he saw him—  _ I'll find you, I promise _ — and maybe Hyunjin only wanted to meet Seungmin from now on.

He realized after a second that Jeongin was still looking at him quizzically, and he quickly shook his head, picking up his drink again. "No, not tonight," he said, a bit too rushed. He picked up his drink and knocked the rest of it back, then squirmed at how terrible the taste was.  _ Fuck _ .

Jeongin hummed, leaning a bit closer to Hyunjin with narrowed eyes, and Hyunjin resolutely ignored his gaze. "Really," Jeongin drawled, and Hyunjin swallowed nervously. He was fucked— there was no way to get anything past Jeongin. "Why not, huh?"

Hyunjin shrugged, trying to play it casual. He really didn't want to have to explain everything to Jeongin. "No reason," he said, aiming for blasé but missing the mark. He tried not to wince when he saw Jeongin's expression morph into a grin.

"Ah, you're hung up on the dude you met last time, huh?" Jeongin sang, clearly satisfied with himself, and Hyunjin took a deep breath to try and calm himself down instead of protesting the claims. "The dude that was like.. Way too dressed up to be here? Sitting in the corner by himself? I saw you leave with him, did you two—"

" _ No _ , oh my god," Hyunjin interrupted loudly, throwing his hands out to stop Jeongin. His reaction drew the attention of a few people around him and Jeongin, earning them a few glares, and Hyunjin kept his head down until everyone had lost interest in him again. When he finally looked back over at Jeongin, the other young man was still grinning, this smarmy, satisfied little thing that Hyunjin wanted to wipe off his face. "We did not... Whatever you were going to say we did," Hyunjin continued, this time at a much more reasonable volume, and Jeongin laughed. "And I am  _ not _ hung up on him. I'm not like that. I'm just not in the mood to meet anyone new today."

"Well, that's good," Jeongin mused, picking up his drink again with a raised eyebrow, "because that guy's sitting at the booths behind you."

Jeongin burst into satisfied laughter as Hyunjin whipped around in his seat, eyes scanning the room, but it didn't matter when his eyes landed on Seungmin— true to Jeongin's word— sitting at the booths across the room. He was alone just like the first time, a drink in his hands, but his eyes were on Hyunjin, lighting up when Hyunjin finally turned to look at him.

"I hate you," Hyunjin said to a still-laughing Jeongin as he scrambled out of his seat and across the bar. He heard Jeongin call something after him, but the other boy was already out of his mind, all of his focus directed on crossing the room to Seungmin.

"You're here," he said as he reached the booth Seungmin was sitting at. Seungmin had already slid over to make room for him as he approached, so Hyunjin sat down in the vacant spot immediately, graceless and desperate. He probably looked as shocked as he felt; Seungmin, on the other hand, was vibrant, smiling beautifully at Hyunjin now that they were seated next to each other.

"I did say I would find you," Seungmin reminded, and Hyunjin let out a despairing noise, falling back against the booth. Seungmin already looked too good tonight— the other man had swapped his previous button down and slacks for a t-shirt and black jeans, the fit slim on his waist and emphasizing his shoulders, and that look plus the romance of Seungmin actually coming to find him was too much for Hyunjin's poor heart to take.

Hyunjin flailed his hands desperately, trying to find the words that he wanted to say. "Yeah but you— I didn't— augh," Hyunjin settled on uneloquently, then pouted when Seungmin laughed. "You're sitting here laughing," he said as he sat up, frowning at Seungmin. No one he'd just met had caught him so off guard like this before. "But why didn't you come over there? You just stayed sitting across the room and hoped that I'd notice you?"

"Well, I would have tried to catch your attention if you looked this way or something," Seungmin explained, leaning his forearms against the table. God, he was handsome. Hyunjin felt delirious. "But you looked busy talking to your friend, so I didn't really want to interrupt."

Hyunjin groaned at that, his head tipping back. "You are way too polite," he scolded, to which Seungmin just chuckled. "Please just let me kiss you."

Seungmin seemed to be surprised by that, as his laughter cut off, his eyes going wide. "Here?" he asked, his cheeks slowly growing pink. "Right now?"

"If you'll let me," Hyunjin answered, lolling his head to the side, then leaned in when Seungmin didn't turn him away.

* * *

Seungmin's eyes fluttered open when Hyunjin shifted against him, curling his long limbs a bit tighter around Seungmin's body. "You're comfortable," Hyunjin mumbled drowsily, and Seungmin let out a breathy laugh, moving to card his fingers through Hyunjin's long hair.

"You too," Seungmin murmured, shifting a bit from where his head was pillowed on Hyunjin's upper arm, one long limb tucked under Seungmin's neck while the other one was draped over Seungmin's waist. The two of them were tangled together in Seungmin's bed, the soft, blue-glow of the Upper Capital lit up at night trickling in through the window.

They'd left the bar together hand-in-hand, but instead of walking the streets of the Lower Capital back to Hyunjin's place, they'd made their way to Seungmin's, taking the public hover-rail between the two sides of the planet before Seungmin called a cab for them. Hyunjin seemed surprised that Seungmin lived in the Upper Capital— Seungmin thought it was obvious, considering his job and the way he was dressed when they first met— but then again, Hyunjin looked at nearly everything they passed in the Upper Capital with the wide, twinkling eyes of someone who had never seen much of it before, and Seungmin realized pretty quickly that he might be the only person Hyunjin had ever known that didn't live in the lower part of the city.

When they got back to Seungmin's place, though— a relatively modest apartment in one of the many towering, steel and glass skyscrapers— Hyunjin hadn't been very interested in looking around. He'd kissed Seungmin as soon as the door was closed; kissed like he couldn't stand not to any more, kissed like he was falling apart. It was so thrilling to Seungmin, how much Hyunjin could change in a moment's notice. First, he was mysterious and alluring, when he first met Seungmin in the bar, then cheeky and bright as he dragged Seungmin from one food stall to the next in the night market. There was the heart-on-his-sleeve way he spoke with Seungmin in the morning, telling him to stay, and the fumbling romance when Seungmin had left, tripping into a kiss. The relief when Seungmin had found him again, as if he'd been waiting for millions of years; and then the way he kissed Seungmin the second they were alone, the desperation in the way his hands danced on Seugnmin's collar.

The kissing hadn't turned into anything else— just the two of them in the hall, then stumbling to Seungmin's bedroom, then collapsed in a mess on Seungmin's bed. They'd stopped once Hyunjin's lips were dark red like cherries, the two of them a disheveled and panting mess. And then Hyunjin had curled himself around Seungmin like he was made to be there, and Seungmin had fit into all the open spaces; and there they lay, quiet, just enjoying their time together.

"What have you been up to?" Hyunjin eventually asked, moving their linked configuration around a bit so he could look up at Seungmin. Seungmin almost didn't remember to answer— Hyunjin looked so good like this, sprawled out against the sheets of his bed, his blond hair fanned out like a halo. Eventually, Hyunjin tapped him on the cheek to get his attention, giggling when Seungmin snapped back into focus.

"Just work," Seungmin replied, smiling at Hyunjin's laughter. The more time he spent with Hyunjin, the harder it was to look away from him. Hyunjin was beautiful at first glance, of course, but the real beauty was seeing all of the different expressions Hyunjin could make, all the different sides of him. Seungmin leaned in to kiss him again, quick and chaste, his heart pounding as Hyunjin laughed against his lips.

"Oh yes, I forgot you're some important person who works in the Upper Capital," Hyunjin said through his lingering laughter. He shifted so he could lay half on top of Seungmin, chin digging into his chest. "What's it like?"

"I'll tell you when your chin isn't jabbing into my sternum," Seungmin said, pained; Hyunjin only giggled sheepishly as he lifted his head up, putting his hands on Seungmin's chest before laying his head back down on them. Seungmin let out a sigh of relief, one of his hands moving to rest gently on Hyunjin's back.

Seungmin's thoughts drifted back to the meeting a few days prior, and he let out a sigh. True to his word, the president had put him in as part of the team going to investigate what had happened on Luyten, along with his boss, Jaebeom. Wonpil wasn't chosen to be part of the team— the other man was neither surprised nor disappointed by that fact, happy to pass off such depressing work to someone better suited for it. They'd been given all of the documentation they could get their hands on beforehand, and Seungmin had reviewed them in between the other meetings and briefings he had to attend to prepare for the mission. They were set to depart the next day, and Seungmin should be packing his things, but here he was: lounging in bed with a beautiful boy, his suitcase still empty in his closet.

"It's been... Depressing," Seungmin settled on, and Hyunjin let out a sympathetic hum as Seungmin sighed. "Apparently a bunch of people were killed on a planet called Luyten. We're investigating it as a genocide," Seungmin continued. Hyunjin looked at him with a saddened expression, though his eyes were serious, attentive to what Seungmin was saying. "There's claims that someone was kidnapped as well—a young man named Felix— but we've only got one witness. It's going to be difficult to find anything."

Something strange seemed to pass across Hyunjin's face at that, though it was gone before Seungmin could place it. He did raise an eyebrow at Hyunjin for it though, but the other man just sat up, pushing a hand through his hair. "That sounds terrible," he murmured, and Seungmin tried to dismiss what he just saw as a fluke— there was no way Hyunjin would have known anything about anything related to that, as the story had been kept so tightly under wraps that not even the media had been able to report on it yet. He sounded genuinely disheartened about the news as well, turning to look at Seungmin with a worried look in his eye. "Will you be okay?" he asked, shifting a bit closer to Seungmin, though he didn't lie down again. Seungmin sat up to be closer to him. "Dealing with something like that..."

"I'll be fine," Seungmin assured. Hyunjin put a hand on Seungmin's knee, and Seungmin covered Hyunjin's hand with his own. "I've had some time to prepare for it, and the team and I leave tomorrow. I'll be fine."

Hyunjin let out a little  _ oh _ , his eyes widening slightly. "Should I be leaving you to get ready?" he asked, pointing towards the door. Seungmin shook his head quickly, letting out a little laugh.

"No, it's fine," Seungmin assured easily, curling his fingers around Hyunjin's wrist. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't want you here," he added, and watched, a satisfied feeling in his stomach, as Hyunjin's smile grew.

"In that case..." Hyunjin began, tilting his head. His hair shifted, trailing down his neck at the angle, and Seungmin's stomach swooped. "Do you mind if I stay the night? It's a long way home from here, and this late..."

Seungmin shook his head. He tugged at Hyunjin's wrist, and the other man moved forward easily. "No," he mumbled. "Not at all."

Later that night, with the lights out and the two of them changed into sleep clothes— Hyunjin wearing Seungmin's this time, the pants just a bit too short— Seungmin combed a hand through Hyunjin's long hair.

"If you hear anything about this," he said against the back of Hyunjin's neck; the other man had wanted to cuddle, and Seungmin had been happy to oblige. "You'll tell me, right?"

There was silence for a few moments, a pause long enough that Seungmin thought Hyunjin might have fallen asleep already. Then, Hyunjin's voice, quiet in the darkness: "Of course."

Hyunjin had left early enough the next morning that saying goodbye to him felt like a dream in Seungmin's mind. Seungmin had woken to Hyunjin, already fully dressed, gently shaking him awake— one hand carding through Seungmin's hair gently, the other curled around Seungmin's shoulder. "Seungmin," he'd said, and Seungmin had blinked bleary eyes open to see Hyunjin sitting on the edge of the bed, glowing in the warm morning light. "I have to go home now."

Seungmin had made a less than intelligible noise at that, and Hyunjin had laughed, airy and bright. He could hardly get himself up, but Seungmin pulled himself out of bed anyways, shoving his glasses onto his face as he trailed after Hyunjin to the door to see him out.

"I put my number into your tablet," Hyunjin was saying. Seungmin couldn't focus on it, everything still coated in a sleepy haze, "and I sent a message to myself, so I'll have your number as well. Is that okay?"

Seungmin had just nodded, rubbing at his face to try and wake himself up fully— he'd wanted to see Hyunjin off properly before he left the planet for god knows how long. "Yeah," he'd mumbled back, voice cottony, and Hyunjin had laughed again, placing a hand on Seungmin's shoulder.

"Okay," he'd said, and god, Hyunjin was so pretty, Seungmin never wanted him to leave. Hyunjin had leaned in and given Seungmin a kiss, so light, too light, but before Seungmin had the sense of mind to pull him back in, Hyunjin had already opened the door.

"Go get some more sleep," he'd said teasingly, and Seungmin managed a smile. Hyunjin only grinned back. "Be safe out there," Hyunjin said as he stepped outside the door, "and find me when you get back."

Seungmin had stumbled back into bed after that, falling asleep with his glasses still on his face. When he'd woken up another hour later and looked at his phone, finding Hyunjin's number entered as "hyunjinnie <3", Seungmin smiled.

* * *

Chan pushed his food around on his plate awkwardly, listening to the gentle tinkling sounds of Woojin's cutlery hitting his plate as they ate. The two of them were eating dinner in the sitting room of the fancy, luxurious accommodation Woojin's staff had arranged for the trip to the Capital, in the rich and quiet upper side of the city, but Chan had no appetite.

It was nice taking part in a life so much more luxurious than Chan had ever dreamed of being a part of. Woojin's attendants treated him just as kindly as they did their prince— it seemed like they could read Chan's mind, somehow knowing all of Chan's wants and needs without him having to say anything at all. There was no responsibility on him for anything; everything was simply given to him, all the people and things around him designed for his comfort. But a part of it felt wrong to Chan, sitting uneasily in his stomach like a stone. He felt guilty, enjoying all of these luxuries and lavish things when he knew that all of the people he would want to share it with were no longer living. Except Felix— Chan still hoped against all hope that his brother was out there somewhere, alive and breathing, and that Chan would be able to bring him back— but he knew better than to hope for the best.

He put his cutlery down, his appetite having vanished. Across the table, Woojin looked up at him curiously.

"Are you alright?" the prince asked. Chan swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Are you not hungry?"

"Not really," Chan admitted, keeping his head down. Woojin, like the rest of his attendants, was strangely perceptive— Chan knew that even hiding his face like this was unlikely to be able to keep his emotions from the prince. He stood hastily, his chair pushing back from the table, and Chan caught the recognition that passed across Woojin's features. So he knew, then.

"I'm gonna go stay in my room for a while," Chan explained, and Woojin just nodded, his lips pursed. He hesitated for a moment, the back of his throat bitter. "I'm sorry."

"No need," Woojin assured. His voice was gentle, understanding. "It's been a lot recently, so it's understandable. I'll check in with you later."

Chan took the out Woojin gave him, barely managing a nod before he was hurrying to his room. He was grateful now, more than ever, that Woojin's attendants had given each of them private rooms in the same adjoining suite— it meant Chan was able to lock the door to keep his own thoughts inside, not letting them consume Woojin as well.

The blinds of the window were open, the evening glow of the Upper Capital streaming through, the weird in-between of light from the sun and artificial light from the city. In the Upper Capital, up in the high towers of steel and glass that cut into the sky, the atmosphere started getting too thin to be able to open windows, but Chan wished he could open his so desperately that he was tempted to break the glass just to get a gasp of the outside. His skin felt itchy all over, crawling across his body— he needed to get out of here, he needed to do something, he needed to find Felix even if his brother was— even if he was—

Chan sat down on the floor by the window, watching the muted noise of the city through his window. Hovering trains and cars floated below his window, suspended above the tracks they ran on, automatic— no one actually drove in the Upper Capital anymore. Every few seconds, a ship or pod would move across the sky, cutting a line through the darkening horizon as the sun slipped lower, behind the other buildings rising high off of the surface of the planet. Lights blinked on in other buildings, hotel rooms and the people that filled them. Chan looked at all of the things around him, all of the people living their normal lives, blissfully unaware of what went on, and felt sick.

He doesn't know how long he sat on the floor by the window, watching the sun sink below the horizon, but the sky was painted a deep, navy blue by the time there was a knock on his door. Chan unfolded his limbs slowly, painfully, to go and answer it, his joints stiff from being held in the same position so long.

He unlocked the door and it opened to Woojin on the other side. The prince was no longer in the fine fabric he wore during the day— now, he was dressed simply, comfortably, a knit shirt in a deep shade of green and loose, black pants.

"Hey," Woojin said, and Chan was struck by how casual it was. When Woojin lifted his hands, showing off two cans of beer— nothing fancy or expensive, just a simple ale, one you could find in any corner store across the galaxy— Chan felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head. "Can I come in?"

Chan didn't have the presence of mind to say anything, feeling like he was watching a dream. He simply stepped out of the way, and Woojin— the  _ prince _ — strolled in casually, sitting down on the edge of Chan's bed. Chan was sure he looked as shocked as he felt, but Woojin, to his credit, just smiled, holding out a can of beer for Chan. "Want one?"

It took Chan a few moments to gather himself, but eventually he pulled himself away from the door, shutting it before moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed next to Woojin. Woojin was still holding out the beer for him, so Chan took it, then watched in shocked silence as Woojin cracked his own can open and took a long, satisfying sip.

When the prince noticed Chan staring, he grinned, letting out a little laugh. "Surprised?" he asked, and Chan nodded mutely. Woojin just shrugged, taking another sip. "Can't be a perfectly polished prince all the time," he said by way of explanation, and the casual way in which he said it startled a laugh out of Chan. The prince's grin grew wider at the sound.

"Go ahead, you can drink it," Woojin prompted, nodding his head towards the unopened can of beer in Chan's hand. Chan suddenly realized he hadn't taken a drink yet and hurried to open the can, taking a sip when a bit of the beer inside frothed up out of the top.

It tasted terrible. It was shit cheap beer, mass produced, sitting in those shitty convenience store fridges for who knows how long. But there was a comfort in it, a bit of normalcy in it that reminded Chan of all the times him and his friends had grabbed these same, shitty, convenience store beer cans and walked around their town at night. The cool liquid coated his throat and pushed the tension out of him with it.

When he swallowed, looking back at Woojin, the prince was smiling, this soft, satisfied thing. "How is it," he said, not really a question, like he knew what Chan was going to say but just wanted to hear the words leave his mouth anyway.

Chan grinned. "It's awful," he said, holding the can up. It really was a shit beer, but he couldn't stop smiling. "Thank you."

Woojin chuckled, nodding. He raised his beer can as well, a toast to nothing, a sign of solidarity. "No problem," he assured, then laughed at Chan cringed on his next sip.

They sat in silence like that for a long time, each of them sipping their drinks at their own pace. Chan felt safe in the silence— there wasn't a need to talk, wasn't a need to fill in the gaps. Woojin wasn't expecting him to do anything or say anything. Nothing about this was about what had happened to Chan, the circumstances that led to them meeting; they were just two young men, sitting on a hotel bed, drinking slowly-warming beer out of the can and listening to the breaths the other took.

Eventually, Woojin broke the silence. "I don't know what you know about me," he began, looking out the window. His can of beer dangled precariously from two long, thick fingers, "but my parents died when I was young. It was an accident— that's what everyone told me, but I don't really know what happened for sure."

Chan looked at Woojin, but the prince was still looking out the window across the room to the left of the bed, his profile highlighted around the edges from the illumination of the nighttime cityscape. "Oh," he murmured. He hadn't known anything about Woojin at all, but he definitely hadn't known that. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Woojin shook his head, glancing over at Chan before turning his face to the window again. "It's fine, I didn't expect you to," he assured easily, genuinely unbothered. He shrugged slightly, one shoulder lifting halfway before it dropped again. "I just wanted to let you know."

Chan nodded, looking down at his feet. He scuffed them along the rug in front of the bed, taking another slow sip of his beer. He didn't know what to say, but he got the sense that Woojin didn't expect him to.

"I know that not knowing is scary," Woojin continued after a few moments of silence. A bit of condensation had gathered onto the side of his can, and it dripped off the bottom onto the carpet every so often, turning the ivory colour a few shades darker. "And losing the people— your parents, especially— is scary. And it feels like the world has abandoned you, and everything hurts."

He turned to look at Chan then, and Chan looked up to see a small, sad sort of smile on the prince's face. "But there are people out there who will be there for you," he explained. "And people will help you, and care about you. And it'll still be scary, and it'll still hurt, but maybe it won't hurt as much."

Chan watched as Woojin turned away again, taking another sip of his beer. The can was nearly empty— Chan could hear the last few dregs of liquid sloshing around in the can as he put it down.

"I know it's not comparable to what you've been through," Woojin finished— quiet, gentle, warm. "But I just wanted to let you know."

Chan looked down at his own can of beer, nearly empty and warming in his grip. He finished it off, knocking the rest of the liquid back, precipitation on the sides dripping off and trailing over his knuckles. He set the empty can down on the floor, then leaned back on his hands, looking at Woojin, the window beyond him, the city and the sky beyond that.

"Thank you," Chan whispered. The silence filled the room, coating them like a blanket. Inside his chest, Chan felt light. "For letting me know."

Woojin glanced back at him, and Chan smiled. Woojin smiled back.

* * *

Minho watched, the corner of his lips curved up, as Jisung spread himself out on the small bench that they liked to call a couch, his limbs reaching every which way and sprawling across the space. "Fresh food," he sang happily, punch-drunk after a good meal— Minho had grabbed some fresh meat and produce to bring onto the ship with them for this trip, and they'd used up some of it for their dinner tonight, wanting to make sure they ate it all before any of it went bad. It was a little luxury for them; neither of them were particularly skilled in the kitchen, so most of their meals aboard the ship were pre-packaged, preserved, things that would last them on their long journeys to the far edges of the galaxy. Sharing a nice meal together, especially on board the ship, had been a special treat, "Fresh food is so good," Jisung continued to sing, and Minho laughed. "Me and you and fresh food~"

"Okay, okay," Minho said, moving over to the couch and shoving at Jisung's limbs, trying to make some room for himself to sit down. Jisung gathered himself for a moment, only to spread himself back out when Minho sat down, his legs across Minho's lap. Minho just shook his head with a fond smile, patting Jisung's thigh and leaving his hand there.

Minho shut his eyes to relax, his full stomach after eating making him tired and lazy, and Jisung's warmth on the bench next to him was a comforting presence. Jisung fell quiet too, shortly after, quiet enough and for long enough that Minho thought he may have fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes after a few minutes, he expected to find Jisung asleep on the couch, relaxed and heavy— instead, Jisung's eyes were opened, trained on Minho's face.

Minho knew he wasn't able to conceal his shock at catching Jisung staring, and Jisung wasn't able to conceal his shock from getting caught, either; both of their eyes went wide, and Minho watched as a bit of colour bloomed high on Jisung's tan cheeks. Still, though, Jisung didn't look away— his eyes remained on Minho, even as Minho sat up a bit straighter, his hand moving off of Jisung's thigh.

"Jisung," Minho finally managed to say. He kept his voice to hardly above a whisper, but somehow, it felt loud, echoing around them. His heart was pounding against his ribs, violent, wanting to escape. "What—"

Both of them startled when Minho's tablet suddenly started to ring, but Jisung more so— the younger man threw all of his limbs into the air, the movement causing him to fall off the couch and nearly kick Minho in the head in the process. "Ouch!" Jisung yelped as he hit the floor, and Minho moved to help him on instinct; but, before he could do anything, Jisung was already picking himself up, scrambling to his feet. Minho tried to reach for him again, but Jisung just shook his head, like an animal that had been spooked, taking hurried steps back from Minho.

"You should get that!" he chirped, but his voice was like a guitar with the strings coiled too tight— snapping, tense, dangerous notes. "I— I'm going to use the bathroom," he added, before Minho could protest— and then he was gone, taking off down the hallway. Somewhere deeper in the ship, Minho heard a door click shut.

Minho stared at the place Jisung had been for a few moments, before he sighed, shaking the tension off of him. He'd ask Jisung what was up with him later. For now, though, Minho pulled his tablet out of his pocket, still ringing, and hastily answered the call.

"Who's calling?" Minho barked down the line— his usual response. Minho took no risks with phone calls; he knew by now that one wrong move could cost him greatly, so he always made sure to leave the impression right off the bat that he was not someone to trifle with.

" _ Lee Know, right? _ " the voice said by way of reply. Minho hated the alias with a passion, but he'd started using it as a way to distance himself from his work— despite work taking up most of his life— and it had stuck. " _ I'd like to request your services. You see, there's someone I'm looking for— _ "

"I said, who's calling," Minho barked again, annoyance flaring up in him. He hated people like this, thinking they could do whatever they wanted, not even putting the bare minimum effort of professionalism. Minho wasn't a professional person, but what he did was a business— he demanded a certain degree of respect.

" _ Oh, Minho, _ " the voice sneered down the line, and Minho felt anger, red hot, ignite in his belly. He made quite an effort to keep his real name out of his clients' mouths, so this man thinking he could call Minho that— without even introducing himself— set him off. The anger was replaced instantly with ice, however, when the man spoke next, " _ Is that any way to speak to the person that can lead you to your mother's killer _ ? _ " _

"You— what?" Minho sputtered unelegently. The man laughed. Minho felt each barking noise that came down the line like a punch to the head. It took him a second to even begin to gather himself, at least enough to say, "What do you know about my mother?"

" _ Was I not clear?" _ the man taunted. Minho couldn't even be angry— he felt like he was hollowed out, his insides replaced with lead. The man continued on. " _ I have information that can lead you to your mother's killer _ ," the voice elaborated, " _ but I'll only give you it in exchange for your services. If you successfully complete what I ask you to do, I'll give you the information. _ "

"What is it," Minho said without hesitation. This may be a trap, but it was a risk Minho was willing to take. Years of searching, and he still hadn't gotten any closer to finding out anything about what had happened to his mother. He needed to take whatever chance he could get his hands on. "Tell me what it is. I'll do it."

Minho could almost hear the other man's smile on the other end of the call. " _ I had paid a smuggler to transport something across the galaxy for me, _ " the voice explained. " _ Well, someone, rather. They were supposed to arrive a day ago, but they haven't arrived yet. No one's heard word from them, and we haven't been able to track their ship down, either." _ The man paused, and Minho waited with bated breath for his next words. " _ I think you know what I'm asking you to do. _ "

"Yes," Minho responded quickly. He'd done this before— he'd found people who had run off, who did not want to be found. He could do this, no problem. "Absolutely. I can find them."

The voice huffed out a laugh down the line. " _ Good to hear, _ " he said, and Minho realized vaguely that he was shaking, the tablet quivering from where it was held to his ear. " _ Very good. The smuggler's name is Changbin Seo, but I don't care much about him. Kill him if you need to— he's not important, I just want to make sure he doesn't get in the way anymore. _ " The directive to kill would have been a red flag to Minho in any other circumstances, but now, he hardly flinched— the only thing on his mind was finishing this mission and finding out what happened to his mother. " _ The other one, though, _ " the voice continued, " _ goes by Felix. I need him brought to me unharmed. He's very valuable— can't have him getting damaged, alright? _ "

Minho nodded, before he realized the person on the other end couldn't see him. "I understand," he said. If he sounded too eager, the voice on the other end didn't seem to react to it anymore. "I won't make any mistakes."

" _ Very good," _ the voice replied, then the line went quiet for a moment. Panic gripped Minho's stomach, but then his tablet pinged, a message received. " _ I sent their information to you _ ,  _ along with where to deliver Felix upon tracking him down, _ " the voice explained. " _ Like I mentioned, we're not sure of where they may have gone, but Changbin had previously been in contact with a navigator based in the Lower Capital. No name attached to it, but I'm sure there aren't many. You can start there. _ "

Minho already had a good idea of who to ask. "Understood," he answered. "Thank you. I'll be sure to find them."

" _ I'm sure you will, _ " the voice replied, and then the line went dead, a beeping sounding over the connection. Minho only realized when he pulled the tablet away from his face that he had never gotten the person's name.

"Minho?" Jisung called from behind him, and Minho looked over his shoulder to find Jisung standing in the entryway of the cabin, his hand braced against the wall. Any traces of what had happened before were gone from his face— now, he looked at Minho with concern, eyebrows furrowed at Minho's spot in the pilot's seat. "I felt you turning the ship around," he explained, moving over to the co-pilot's chair and taking a seat in it. He leaned forward to inspect the control panel. "Where are we going? I thought our next mission was on Trimobe."

"Change of plans," Minho said briskly. There must have been something in his voice that tipped Jisung off, as he looked up at Minho suddenly, like he wasn't sure what he was seeing. "We're headed back to the Capital."


	4. part three

Woojin stood by the door to his and Chan’s suite, a hand on the doorknob as he waited for Chan to finish his preparations. Today was the day that they would make their journey to Chan’s home planet, and Woojin could tell the other man was trying his best to hold himself together, putting on a brave face lest any cracks in his composure show. He watched as Chan took a few steps towards the door, before stopping abruptly and turning back to his room, standing in the doorway and looking inside again to check if he had forgotten anything. (That wasn’t something Chan needed to worry about. They’d packed their things the previous night, and if they had left anything behind, Woojin’s attendants would find it and have it delivered to them before they could leave the Capital.)

“Chan,” Woojin called out when the other man just stood in the doorway in silence; at the sound of his name, Chan seemed to blink out of his haze, his head turning to look at Woojin. Woojin put on his best, gentle smile, not wanting to stress Chan out any more than he already was— Chan was going through enough as is. “Are you ready?”

Woojin saw Chan’s throat work as he swallowed, and then the other man was nodding hurriedly, making his way over to the door. Woojin had simply meant ready to leave the room, but Chan seemed to be answering for much more than that when he replied, “Yeah. Yeah, as ready as I can be.”

Woojin nodded in return, opening the door for Chan to leave first. Chan hesitated, his steps faltering, as he looked at Woojin, a prince, holding the door for him, and Woojin couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Just go,” he encouraged, shooing Chan out the door with his free hand, smiling when Chan ducked his head and hurried through the doorway.

“I’m sure your attendants wouldn’t like that,” Chan said sheepishly once Woojin stepped out after him, closing the door behind the two of them. Woojin just shrugged, making his way down the hallway, Chan falling into step with him easily.

“I don’t really care too much about what they think,” Woojin said simply, and he raised his eyebrows at the laugh that the statement shocked out of Chan. “What?” he asked. “It’s true. They’re too stuffy. Just because I’m royalty on our planet doesn’t mean I can’t do things myself.”

Chan chuckled, a smile on his face at Woojin’s casual impassivity towards the rules. “Just not what I expected when I first met you,” he admitted, and at Woojin’s raised eyebrow, he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Although, I had just woken up after passing out in a crash,” he added, “so maybe my first impression was a little… Warped.”

Woojin grinned at that— it was nice to see Chan able to smile and joke, instead of the withdrawn and tormented shell of a person he’d been since Woojin first met him. The two of them talking over drinks really seemed to have impacted Chan; he still had his sadness, of course, still carried that burden with him, but it didn’t seem as heavy on him now that he knew Woojin was someone he could share it with. “With how long you were out for, it was probably more than just a little warped,” he joked, and Chan laughed again, the sound coming easily to him. It made Woojin wonder what kind of person Chan was before all of this, before this tragedy had happened and tried to snuff out the light inside of Chan. “But then again, I like throwing off people’s expectations of me, so maybe not that warped.”

“I can see that,” Chan stated obviously, and when Woojin turned to look at him, Chan smiled back.

One of Woojin’s attendants was waiting by the elevator for the two of them— Woojin had convinced them not to wait inside the room for him and Chan, but they insisted on escorting the prince and his companion down the long elevator ride and out of the hotel. The woman waiting for them was a tall, willowy looking woman, stern even though she was on the younger side of Woojin’s staff. She greeted the two of them respectfully, Chan hurrying to follow along. “Your Highness, if you’ll follow me,” she offered politely, inclining her head to the entrance to the elevator that was waiting for them. Her head stayed ducked in deference as Woojin and Chan entered, the woman trailing in last before pressing the button for the lobby and closing the doors.

The ride was quiet, Chan seeming to draw into himself a bit further in the presence of Woojin’s staff. It was something Woojin had noticed over the time he spent with Chan— the more people that were around, the more reserved Chan became. He wasn’t sure what it was that caused the change. Woojin got the sense that it wasn’t so much that Chan was uncomfortable with strangers; rather, Woojin got the sense that it was the overt reminder that Woojin was indeed a prince, and there were certain standards his staff expected people to uphold around him, even though Woojin didn’t care too much for these himself. Chan was trying to be respectful and follow the rules demonstrated by others, Woojin knew that, but he’d rather Chan be able to feel free around him, to act however he pleased. Chan was holding enough of himself in already, with the amount of pain the young man carried on his shoulders— the last thing Woojin wanted was for Chan to hold in his happiness as well.

Things stayed relatively silent between the two of them all the way until Woojin and Chan were on their way to the spaceport where they would board the ship to Chan’s home planet for the investigation. Chan had been asked to come to aid with the investigation, both as a witness and an internal expert, and the man had agreed willingly, even though Woojin knew the decision must be eating away at him. To have to go back to the place where his family and friends were killed would be an unspeakable kind of horror. Woojin had no doubt that some sort of cover up job had been done— the government of Luyten had been too willing to cooperate in the investigation for Woojin to believe that they had just left things as is— but even just being in the same space again, regardless of what evidence may be left, would no doubt be terrifying. Woojin had suggested he attend as well, so Chan wouldn’t have to go alone, and both Chan and the investigative committee had agreed. Woojin was glad that Chan had accepted the offer; he had no doubts of Chan’s strength, but at least he would be able to support Chan if the other man needed anything.

The trip from the hotel to the spaceport was relatively short, only a few minutes in the high speed pod that seemed to hurtle across the Upper Capital at lightning speed. However, when Chan and Woojin exited the pod, there were already members of Woojin’s staff waiting for them with their bags— including, to Woojin’s disdain, his advisor, a disapproving look on his face.

“Your Highness,” Woojin’s advisor greeted politely, and annoyance flared up in Woojin when his advisor only offered Chan the barest of greetings afterwards. Already things were off on the wrong foot, and their journey hadn’t really begun yet. “You’ve decided to accompany the committee for their investigation?”

Woojin chanced a glance at Chan, who was waiting a few paces behind Woojin. His gaze was on the floor, but Woojin could see the muscle in his jaw was tense and tight. “I’ve decided to accompany Chan, yes,” Woojin corrected smoothly, returning his gaze to his advisor. The old man’s face was stony, nothing given away behind dark eyes.

“I see,” Woojin’s advisor said, and then paused. Woojin already knew something else was coming before his advisor had even opened his mouth. “I don’t mean to disrespect you with my dissent, Your Highness,” his advisor continued, and Woojin’s jaw clenched. “However, I—”

“Then don’t,” Woojin cut in sharply. His advisor’s eyes widened minutely; behind him, Woojin could see his other attendants begin to whisper among each other. Woojin hated it. “My decision has been made,” he continued firmly, standing his ground. “I will accompany Chan for the investigation. And I will do so alone.”

His advisor’s eyes were quickly narrowed again, clearly disapproving of Woojin’s choice. Like this, he reminded Woojin of a crow, dark beady eyes and pointed features. “With all due respect, Your Highness, but I believe that to be extremely inadvisable,” he disagreed politely, but Woojin could pick up on the undercurrent of frustration in his tone. “Our planet is one of peace. We do not get involved in conflicts, let alone conflicts that do not concern us.”

“This concerns me,” Woojin insisted. His advisor’s eyes narrowed further, and Woojin doubled down. “This concerns me greatly, as it should the rest of you,” he continued, nodding his head to his advisor and the rest of his attendants, still whispering. Behind Woojin’s advisor, the other attendants froze, caught in the act. “A loss of life as massive as this, whether it is within our borders or beyond our borders, should concern all of us greatly. And I will not let you disrespect or minimize the very real suffering of others, especially not Chan, just because you all are too scared to rock the boat.”

Woojin stalked forwards then, past his advisors towards the other attendants who were waiting with his and Chan’s bags. He grabbed the two of them, one in each hand, ignoring the shocked gasps of his attendants as he stalked over to Chan to hand him his. Chan’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he watched Woojin, and Woojin hoped that it wasn’t a bad reaction, but he didn’t have any way to turn back now.

He looked at his advisor one more time, the man now outright scowling at Woojin’s actions. “I will be accompanying Chan and assisting with the investigation however I can,” Woojin stated clearly, “and I will be doing so without any of you. Now if you might excuse us, we have important business to attend to.”

Woojin didn’t wait for any sort of reaction from his advisor or any of the other attendants— the prince simply stalked off, making his way inside the port and in the direction of the gate that the investigative committee had told Woojin and Chan to meet them at. It took a couple of seconds, but eventually Woojin heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind him, and Chan appeared in his peripheral vision a few moments later. When he turned to look at Chan, the other man was giving him an impressed look, his eyebrows raised and a smile on his face.

“If I might, Your Highness,” Chan said, and Woojin tried his best not to squirm at the title, but he burst into laughter at Chan’s next words: “That was fucking  _ brilliant _ .”

* * *

Changbin helped Felix down from the hatch of the ship, the younger man hurrying to make his way down the ramp and onto solid ground. He caught Felix when he stumbled, the ramp steep and hard to descend gracefully, and even though much of Felix’s face was covered, he could tell the blond was smiling at him, his eyes curved into crescents. A small ways away, Jeongin waited, his identity similarly obscured. Even though Jeongin would take them through back streets and unpatrolled alleys on their way to their hiding space, they all wanted to be as careful as possible to not be spotted or recognized. Changbin had no clue how powerful the people that might be looking for them were, but he didn’t want to take any chances and trifle with their safety— considering they had kidnapped Felix and killed his family, Changbin got the feeling that they were not the type to be messed with.

Changbin closed the hatch to his ship, the locking mechanism sliding into place, before making his way over to Jeongin with Felix. He’d make sure to take anything important off the ship, along with enough clothes for him and Felix, the two of them each carrying a bag of the things Changbin had decided to bring. Jeongin flashed them a wave and a grin when they were close enough, then nodded for him to follow them out of the abandoned, decaying lot Changbin had parked his ship in, the three of them silently slipping through a gap in the fence and beginning their walk.

Jeongin had been more than helpful this entire time, and Changbin had no idea how he would be able to thank the kid. When Changbin had explained the situation to Jeongin, Jeongin had listened intently to everything, before immediately getting to work. He’d given Changbin the best route he could make with the data he had— a slower one, he had given the disclaimer over the phone to Changbin, but significantly more secret, nearly undetectable unless someone went way out of their way to look at every unconventional option. He’d told Changbin exactly where to enter the atmosphere of the Capital, where in the Lower Capital to park his ship, given him the best possible time for their arrival in order to lessen their chances of being detected. Jeongin had even gone out of his way to arrange a place for Changbin and Felix to stay— a mechanic friend of his named Hyunjin, whose apartment tucked away in an infrequently-traveled area happened to have a spare room. He’d apologized for there only being one— space was, ironically, hard to come by in the Lower Capital, and finding someone with a place as big as Hyunjin’s was already incredibly rare— but Changbin had been overwhelmingly grateful that Jeongin had done that much for them in the first place. He’d just let Felix take the bed; Changbin had no problem sleeping on the floor.

The walk to Hyunjin’s place was not a short one, and covered up in the hot, stifling atmosphere of the Lower Capital had Changbin sweating quickly. He could see sweat beading on the back of Felix’s neck in front of him, but they couldn’t afford to stop to rest until they were there; the three of them pressed forwards, following Jeongin this way and that, through winding walkways and narrow passages until Jeongin stopped at a short doorway tucked against the side of a building, the alley it was off of only wide enough to allow one person to pass at a time. Changbin watched as Jeongin knocked an oddly specific rhythm on the door, then waited. A few seconds passed before the door opened, a handsome man with long hair peeking his head out. 

“Okay, this is it for me!” Jeongin said as he turned to Changbin and Felix, flashing the two of them a grin. Changbin realized the handsome man must be Hyunjin, then, and he smiled back at Jeongin, giving him a grateful nod. Hyunjin moved out of the way for him and Felix to make their way, and Felix ducked in quickly, Changbin stopping to clap Jeongin on the shoulder one more time before following after Felix into Hyunjin’s home.

The interior of Hyunjin’s place was blissfully cool compared to the outside— Changbin let out a sigh when he was able to strip off the piece of cloth he had used to cover his face, Felix already having torn his off as well. Hyunjin let out a laugh as he shut and locked the door, stepping around Felix and Changbin to move further into the unit. “Hot out there, huh?” he asked, just grinning when Changbin and Felix nodded. “It’s alright. It stays pretty cool in here, so you two will be comfortable.”

“I’m assuming you’re Hyunjin, then?” Changbin asked, then tried his best to stifle a laugh as Hyunjin’s face morphed into shock. Next to him, Felix failed miserably, letting out a snort.

“Oh god, I didn’t even introduce myself,” Hyunjin exclaimed, looking like a deer in headlights. Changbin just grinned and shook his head, stepping towards Hyunjin and holding his hand out to shake.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured, and Hyunjin slumped dramatically in relief. Changbin couldn’t help but snicker at that; behind him, he heard Felix laugh as well, hardly concealed. “I’m Changbin. Thank you for helping us.”

Hyunjin managed to gather himself enough to shake Changbin’s hand, then moved on to Felix, shaking his hand as well when Felix hesitantly stuck his out and introduced himself. “Nice to meet you too,” Hyunjin replied, seemingly back to normal after his dramatics. Changbin wondered if this was just Hyunjin’s default state, swinging wildly between exaggerated reactions and a normal human being. “It’s no problem, really. It’ll be nice to have someone else around here anyway. It can get kinda lonely, you know?”

“I bet,” Felix remarked, and Changbin nodded along with him, the two of them looking around. Jeongin had said Hyunjin’s place was spacious, but this was huge even by that standard, a full living area, kitchen, and two different bedrooms. Sure, the location wasn’t ideal, but the interior was more than enough to make up for it. Changbin knew the Capital too— even in the Lower Capital, with its oftentimes subpar living conditions, accommodation like this didn’t come cheap. “No offence,” Changbin began as he stepped further into the space; Hyunjin was already making his way to the kitchen, grabbing a few cups out of a cabinet there, “but how do you afford a place like this?”

“Hush money,” Hyunjin replied so casually that the words initially didn’t register with Changbin. When he let out a disbelieving noise and turned to look at Hyunjin, the other man was just pouring water into glasses calmly. He looked up at Changbin’s reaction, his face not showing a trace of humour. “No, seriously,” he added, and Changbin looked at Felix to find the other man as surprised at him, gaping openly at Hyunjin.

“Hush money for what?” Felix asked, as Hyunjin picked up the cups of water, bringing one each to Felix and Changbin. Hyunjin just grinned, easy and calm. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be hush money anymore~” he sang, and Changbin just shook his head in disbelief, drinking down the water that Hyunjin gave to him in quick gulps.

“Oh, anyways,” Hyunjin said, sitting on the edge of the couch in the living area, and Changbin and Felix both looked at him again. He pointed to the doorway to one of the rooms, the gap where the door was ajar showing a bed and small table with a window further in the room. “I’ve got the spare room, but I’ve only got one bed, so you’ll either have to share, or someone can sleep on the couch or the floor. I’ve got a mat you can lay on if you decide to take the floor— the couch isn’t that comfortable anyways.” He gave the cushions a pat, then pointed to another doorway, the door for this one shut. “And the bathroom’s in there. I put out a couple of spare towels, so feel free to shower and use it as you want. The kitchen’s free reign too, as long as you keep it clean.”

Changbin couldn’t miss the way that Felix’s face lit up when Hyunjin mentioned the kitchen, and he made a mental note to ask the younger man about it later. Changbin had always done all of the cooking while they were on the ship together, mostly out of routine of preparing meals for himself anyways, so he had no idea if Felix liked to cook or even knew how. Judging by how happy Felix looked at having free access to the kitchen, though, Changbin would wager that he enjoyed it. “That’s really kind,” Felix said enthusiastically, practically looking at Hyunjin with stars in his eyes. “Really, Hyunjin, thank you. It means a lot.”

Hyunjin just scoffed, trying for casual, but Changbin could tell by the satisfied smile on his face that he was happy to be recognized. “Like I said, it’s nice to have other people around,” he answered, then nodded his head to the last remaining doorway in the unit. “I’m gonna work on some stuff in my room,” he explained, “but if you need anything, just let me know, alright? Make yourself at home, get comfortable, do whatever, just don’t ruin my apartment.”

“We won’t,” Changbin assured with a chuckle, Hyunjin shooting a pretty smile his way. “Thank you, Hyunjin. Really.”

Hyunjin shrugged as he hopped off the couch. “It’s nothing!” he called over his shoulder, long legs traipsing his way into his room before he shut the door behind him.

Changbin and Felix stood in silence for a few moments, before Felix nodded his head at the spare bedroom questioningly, and Changbin made his way over to it, the blond man trailing behind. It was a pretty spacious room in general— maybe a bit cramped for two people, but they had already lucked out being able to stay here in the first place. Changbin wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You can take the bed,” he told Felix as they made their way inside. Changbin set his bag down on the table next to the bed, while Felix put his down by the door. “I’m fine with sleeping on the floor.”

“No no no,” Felix protested hurriedly, pouting slightly.  _ That’s adorable _ , Changbin thought immediately, before he realized what had just happened and mentally kicked himself for it. “I’ll take the floor. I’m the reason why we’re in this situation in the first place— it’s not fair for you to put yourself out even more.”

“I’m in this situation of my own choosing,” Changbin pointed out, turning and beginning to dig through his bag for a clean set of clothes just so he didn’t have to look at Felix’s pouting face any longer. The thoughts he’d just had were dangerous; Changbin was already too involved, and he didn’t want to throw any more unnecessary feelings into the mix. “You didn’t make me do anything, alright? And besides, you still haven’t fully recovered. I don’t want you sleeping on the floor and feeling even worse.”

Changbin glanced over his shoulder to see Felix pouting, touching the bandage on the side of his head gently. The bruises on his back had faded a good amount, but the gash along Felix’s hairline wasn’t quite there yet, the deep cut still needing time to close up and heal. It was smaller than it was when Changbin had first met him, granted, but with Changbin’s haphazard medical care, he knew it would still take a while longer before Felix had healed enough from it that Changbin would consider him recovered. He knew it bothered Felix— he’d noticed the other man touching it gently when he was unfocused, his fingers gently prodding at the bandage— but Changbin really just wanted to make sure Felix was taken care of. He was relieved when Felix eventually seemed to acquiesce, picking up the bag he had been carrying and setting it down on the bed as some sort of non-verbal claim.

“Good,” Changbin said in response to Felix’s actions, trying not to laugh at the pouty little noise Felix made in return. Fuck, why did Felix have to be cute? He gathered the clothes he had pulled out of his bag, already making his way towards the door of the bedroom. “Do you mind if I shower first?” he asked Felix, and Felix looked over at him. “I was sweating like crazy out there, I feel disgusting.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Felix said easily, shooing Changbin out. He sat down on the bed next to the bag, pulling out a set of clothes for himself— Changbin immediately recognized them as the clothes Felix had been wearing when they first met. It seemed that the familiar clothing comforted Felix, despite all of the terrible things he’d suffered while wearing them; Felix wore them often, and Changbin had even noticed Felix sleeping in the shirt when Changbin had woken him up for breakfast one morning. Felix placed the clothes on his lap, running his hands over the fabric gently. “I’ll go after you, but take your time. I’m not in a rush,” he added, and Changbin nodded.

“Got it,” he responded, and then Changbin hurried out of the room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The bathroom wasn’t anything special either, nothing more than a toilet, sink, and standing shower, but he didn’t care. Changbin simply wanted to get Felix off of his mind, before he fell deeper than he knew how to get back from.

* * *

Chan closed his eyes against the rattling feeling of the ship touching down on the ground, hands gripped tightly around the edge of the seat. He still wasn’t used to travelling— it was never something he had done much with his family, and the swooping feeling in his stomach as the ship rose and sunk never got easier for Chan to deal with. Next to him, Woojin was a beacon of calm, the prince as steady as a stone against Chan’s storm. He felt Woojin’s hand land on his knee as the ship rumbled, its landing gear settling against the planet’s surface, and even though it was minimal, he was grateful for the comfort.

When Chan opened his eyes again, the other people on board the ship had begun to disembark, unfastening their safety harnesses and gathering their things. Immediately, Chan felt his chest grow tight. They were there. They were on Chan’s home planet. The investigation was about to begin, and Chan would be confronted with whatever was left of his home.

“Woojin,” Chan breathed. The prince looked at him, concerned. Chan felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Woojin’s expression morphed into sympathy, and he squeezed Chan’s knee gently before moving his hand to Chan’s shoulder. “You can stay on board if you want to,” he said as the ship slowly emptied out. “I can go explain that you aren’t feeling comfortable. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Chan sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t feel like enough, nothing sinking in. “No, I— I want to,” he clarified. He wanted to help. He wanted to know what happened. He wanted— needed— to find out if anyone else had made it out alive. “I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Woojin let out an understanding hum, his hand gently rubbing along the tense line of Chan’s shoulder. Chan closed his eyes again, trying to catch his breath. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low, honeyed timbre that Chan felt deep in his chest. “Take your time. Do what you can manage.”

Chan took a few minutes to calm himself down, Woojin sitting patiently with him the entire time. Stepping off the ship meant being confronted with reality— whatever that was, Chan didn’t know. He knew it couldn’t be good. He knew it couldn’t be what he wanted. Chan knew he wouldn’t be stepping off that ship to his parents, his friends, Felix all waiting for him, as if the past couple of weeks had been nothing but a terrible nightmare. If he’d be lucky, there’d be nothing. If he wasn’t lucky, there’d be carnage. Chan wasn’t sure what he’d prefer— the uncertainty of not knowing what happened, or the blatant confrontation with the truth.

It took a while, but eventually Chan felt like he could breathe again, the weight on his chest less suffocating, less painful. He opened his eyes to see Woojin watching him, a neutral expression on his face that turned into a gentle, encouraging smile when Chan looked at him. “Are you ready?” he asked, and Chan nodded, letting go of the sides of his seat to finally undo his safety harness. His knuckles ached from the tension; he stretched them out as he stood up slowly, Woojin joining him.

“As ready as I can be,” Chan explained, and Woojin nodded in understanding. He slowly made his way to the exit hatch of the ship, a narrow stairway that folded out from the door. “Let’s go.”

A member of the investigative committee was waiting for them when Chan and Woojin slowly got off of the ship, Chan first with Woojin following close behind. Chan recognized him as Seungmin, a young man with a kind face who had greeted them at the spaceport. He’d already told Chan that he’d be with him for the course of the investigation on Chan’s home planet, recording Chan’s statements and helping uncover whatever he could, but for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to Chan that Seungmin might have been waiting for them. “Sorry to make you wait,” he apologized as he descended the stairs, but Seungmin just shook his head with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seungmin said easily, waiting until Woojin had finished descending the stairs before he nodded to both of them. “Are you ready?” he asked, more to Chan than to Woojin, and Chan took a steadying breath before nodding.

Chan had known this would be difficult, even if he didn’t know what to expect. He knew there wasn’t going to be an easy way to confront any situation he might be faced with on his home planet. But nothing had prepared him for the shocking stillness he was met with when he exited the spaceport with Seungmin and Woojin, the sight of a city frozen in time with none of the people in it.

The sight clearly put Woojin off, as well— Chan didn’t miss the shudder that rippled through the prince when they walked out onto the empty street. Seungmin, to his credit, held in his reaction, though he might have looked a bit more tense than he did when Chan had first met him. It seemed like neither Seungmin or Woojin wanted to push Chan first, neither of them wanting to break the silence, so Chan bit the bullet. “It’s never this quiet,” he said, his own voice muted to not disturb the state of the city. Even with his voice lowered, his voice still seemed to echo, and Chan felt goosebumps rise to his skin.

“I had assumed not,” Seungmin said in reply, his voice similarly lowered. His face was hardened as he looked out into the city, grim. “Chan, if you’re alright with it,” he began gently, and Chan swallowed his nerves. “Would we be able to retrace your steps on that day?”

The thought of going back to his family’s home made Chan’s throat feel like it was closing. But it was necessary, he knew, in order to help figure out what happened. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, it had to be done. “Yeah,” he managed to say after a moment, giving a jerky, unstable nod. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Alright,” Seungmin said gently. He pressed something on the vest he had strapped to his chest, a little beeping noise coming from it— Chan realized quickly that it was a body camera to record what happened. “I’m not familiar with the streets,” he explained, looking to Chan for guidance. “Are you able to lead the way?”

Chan nodded quickly, having figured he would need to do that anyways. Woojin placed a hand on his shoulder gently; Chan was thankful for the encouragement. “Of course,” Chan replied. A little red light on Seungmin’s vest flashed, letting him know it was recording. On, off, on again. “I’ll show you where I was.”

It was unsettling to walk through a city with no one in it. Chan kept looking into houses, into windows, expecting to see any trace of life at all in any of them— but found nothing. Doors closed, lights off, like no one even lived there at all. Chan pointed out the houses of people he knew as he walked to Seungmin, listing off the names of his friends, his brother’s friends, relatives, friends of his parents. Every time Chan said someone’s name, a traitorous flare of hope bloomed inside of him; it was as if some part of him believed that by mentioning their names, the people who disappeared would return again, stick their heads out of their home, turn a corner, approach Chan from down the street. But every time, Chan was met with nothing; the homes were empty, the names belonging to ghosts.

Chan slowed down when he reached his home, his feet stalling in front of their small yard. Chan couldn’t place the maelstrom of emotions that were circling his chest— it was his childhood home, but the building now felt cursed, empty of all of the people who were supposed to be in it. “And this is my home,” Chan said at first, but the words didn’t feel right anymore, a house but not a home. “Where I lived,” he clarified a moment later. Seungmin just nodded. 

“Are you able to show us inside?” Seungmin asked cautiously. Beside him, Woojin was calm, though his gaze on Chan was careful, waiting for any sign of trouble. Chan looked up at the house and swallowed. 

It took him a few seconds before he was able to get the words out of his mouth. “Yeah,” Chan tried to say, but his voice broke; he cleared his throat, then tried again. “Yeah,” he told Seungmin, more resolutely this time, accompanied by a nod. “Yeah, I can show you. I— I want to see, as well. For myself.”

Seungmin let Chan lead the way to the front door, standing close enough but a comfortable distance away that Chan didn’t feel smothered by the man. Chan was grateful, as he approached the door, that his parents had gone with a biometrics system for the lock— if Chan had needed to have a key or remember a passcode, he’s not sure he would have been able to get inside. As it stood, all Chan needed to do was press his hand to a panel embedded in the front of the door, and the lock clicked open, the door sliding open with a hiss.

The house was exactly as it had been when Chan had left it. Everything was the same as it had been for Chan’s entire life— the kitchen was clean, the laundry was folded, the shelves were organized, the beds were made. Family pictures hung on the wall, dotting the rooms with the stories of Chan’s life. Pictures of himself as a baby, smiling and laughing; then, him as a child, sitting next to an infant Felix. There were pictures of them growing up together, reminders all throughout the house— swimming competitions, martial arts events, graduations, vacations. A small trophy case housed Chan’s swimming medals and Felix’s martial arts trophies, their names inscribed onto them as a mark of their accomplishments. But the house, despite all of the stories it held, the character that was inscribed into the walls, was empty.

Chan didn’t know how long he stared at the empty home for. Seungmin didn’t disturb him, just quietly stepping forward to look around; Woojin didn’t either, the prince standing next to Chan for support. When he finally snapped out of it, Chan realized abruptly that there were tears on his face— he wiped at them hurriedly, taking in a deep breath. 

“I was in my room,” Chan explained. Further inside the house, Seungmin turned to look at him. Chan pointed in the direction of his room, and Seungmin followed his gaze. “My dad ran in and told me what was going on. I can show you where I was exactly.”

Seungmin simply nodded, and Chan moved without even thinking, his body guiding him to his own room on autopilot. It was on the second level, at the back of the house, and climbing the stairs up to it felt like climbing a mountain. He didn’t look at his parents’ room, didn’t look at Felix’s— Chan simply made a beeline for his own room, not giving himself a chance to hesitate before he opened the door.

Everything in his room was exactly as it had been before Chan left. Right down to the arrangement of his things on his desk, the book he had been reading open to the same page, his laptop still in standby. The only thing that was different, jarring enough that Chan noticed it immediately, was that the window was closed.

Chan had left the window open. He knew because he had climbed out of it to escape the house, hanging down from his hands before dropping to the ground and running for his life. Unless his father had closed it after him, but Chan had doubted it— his father had helped him to the window, then ran out of Chan’s room, and that was the last Chan saw of him. Chan explained this to Seungmin, who listened to his story intently, as Woojin made a slow circle around the room, looking carefully at every last detail.

“But everything else is the same?” Seungmin asked when Chan finished speaking. He turned around as well, slowly looking the entire room over— Chan realized Seungmin was recording how the room looked on his camera. “Nothing out of place, just the window?”

“Just the window,” Chan confirmed, and Seungmin nodded slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. He slowly made his way towards the window, looking outside, then down, mapping Chan’s escape route with his eyes. “You said you climbed out the window,” he confirmed, waiting until Chan nodded until he continued. “Can you show us where you went from there?”

Chan led Seungmin and Woojin outside again, making their way to the back of the house. Chan pointed up to where his bedroom window was visible from outside. “I climbed out of there, then fell,” he explained, drawing his path back down to the ground with his finger. He then drew a line with his finger in the direction that he had run, pointing in the direction of City Hall. “Then I went for City Hall, since my dad told me there were escape pods that way and I might be able to grab one if I got there fast enough.”

Seungmin hummed, looking carefully at the ground in the direction Chan had indicated. Chan followed his gaze, and realized abruptly that there were no footprints— the ground was completely level, not a hint of tracks of any kind in the dirt. “Can you show us exactly where you went?” Seungmin asked, and even though Chan knew that Seungmin was simply following the proper procedures, he had to stomp down the quick, indignant flare that rose up inside him, burning—  _ he doesn’t believe me. _

“Of course,” Chan said simply. He began to make his way towards City Hall, following the route he had taken exactly— down this street, through this yard, between these two houses. When he reached the place where he had been shot, he stopped. “This is where I got hit,” he explained to Seungmin, his arm moving up to indicate where the blast had hit him. He knew he had bled when he got hit, the blood splattering from his wound, but when he looked around, there wasn’t a trace of it anywhere.

Chan continued on his path, the low, white building of City Hall growing closer and closer in the distance. Chan knew that a blast aimed for him had missed and hit the front of the building, but there was no evidence of that either, the structure immaculate. He pointed that out to Seungmin as well as they passed, moving around to the back of the building to where the escape pods were located.

Chan froze when he saw that there was more than one pod missing.

Seungmin and Woojin paused on either side of him, both of them growing confused as they followed Chan’s gaze. Woojin turned to Chan, his eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you said you were the only one who took an escape pod,” he said quietly, and Chan nodded. 

“I— I was,” Chan answered shakily. Seungmin looked at him, his lips pursed, then moved towards the docking stations for the pods, taking a closer look. “I had taken the left one, it was closest to me when I came around the building, and— I didn’t see anyone else nearby, other than the people chasing me,” he explained. Chan couldn’t take his eyes off of the empty middle dock, where another escape pod should have been.

“Do you think anyone could have come this way after you?” Seungmin called, glancing over at Chan. Chan quickly shook his head no. 

“The soldiers chased me right up until I got into the pod and launched it,” Chan explained, tracing the path he had taken with his eyes. He shook his head again, his eyebrows furrowing. “I doubt that anyone else would have made it here, and even if they did, I don’t think they would have left the pods unguarded again.”

The three of them fell silent, then, Chan reliving the moment over and over in his head. The middle pod was there. He was absolutely certain of it. No one had taken that pod before Chan got in his, and he doubted anyone would have been able to take it after. Where had it gone?

Chan startled when he heard Seungmin’s voice, clear and loud in the silence of the abandoned city, reading out a string of letters and numbers. When Chan looked over, he realized Seungmin was reading the serial number on the base of the pod into a little microphone strapped to his vest. “Someone try to trace that number for me,” Seungmin said afterwards, standing up from where he’d been crouched next to the dock to read. Chan felt cold all over. “One of the pods is missing.”

* * *

Felix watched quietly, curled up on a corner of the couch with Hyunjin and Changbin. The two men were watching something on the screen affixed on the wall of Hyunjin’s living area— some sort of sport Felix had never seen and couldn’t even begin to guess the rules of— and were bickering loudly with each other, wildly gesticulating as they argued.

“You cannot be fucking serious,” Changbin was saying, his voice snappy and snarly in a way Felix had never heard before. “I have to live with someone who thinks Proxima’s team is the best in the league? Are you kidding me? This might as well be torture.”

“Hey, I could kick you out on the street right now,” Hyunjin fired back defensively, his arms crossed. Felix knew the taller man was trying to look serious, but he honestly couldn’t see someone with a face like Hyunjin’s as even remotely threatening. “I could leave you for dead and I wouldn’t even be worried about it!”

Changbin let out a disbelieving noise, flailing dramatically on the couch. “Are you telling me that you would kill a man to defend your shitty taste in teams?” he shouted, his eyes wide as he turned to face Hyunjin. “Really? You’re willing to do that all for the worst team in the league?”

Hyunjin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Rich of you to say that  _ my _ favourite team is the worst in the league when Tau Ceti is consistently in last place,” he snarked back, then yelped when Changbin reared back threateningly.

“Um,” Felix interjected, thoroughly confused. The two other men on the couch paused their arguing to look at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he began, “but what are you two talking about?”

Hyunjin blinked at Felix as if he had grown another head. “You’ve never heard of Exy?” he asked disbelievingly, then sighed when Felix continued to look at him with a puzzled expression. “Not everyone can have taste,” he mumbled, then yelped when Changbin elbowed him.

“Hey, be nice,” Changbin muttered, then turned to Felix, giving him an encouraging smile. Felix hated how his heart skipped a beat at the sight. “It’s a sport that’s popular on the Capital, along with a couple of other nearby planets,” he explained gently, and Felix let out a noise of understanding, nodding. “It’s not super well-known, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have heard of it, don’t worry.”

“All you need to know is that my team is the best,” Hyunjin piped up, then shrieked when Changbin whipped around, hand raised to smack Hyunjin for his comment. Felix let out a laugh, then slowly slipped off the couch as the men continued arguing, making his way to the kitchen to grab himself some water. 

He hadn’t noticed when the arguing stopped, but by the time Felix had grabbed a cup from the cabinet and the jug of water from the fridge, Changbin was by his side in the kitchen. Felix hadn’t heard him approach, and he tried his best not to flinch when he turned and found the man standing next to him.

“Hey,” Changbin began gently, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Felix gripped the handle of the jug in both hands. “Are you okay? You left kinda suddenly.”

“Yeah,” Felix said hurriedly, his voice squeaking a bit as it came out. Thankfully, if Changbin noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “Yeah, I’m fine, just thirsty.”

Changbin hummed, looking at Felix for one scrutinizing moment more, as if he was trying to figure out whether Felix was really telling the truth or not. Felix waited, frozen still, until Changbin seemed satisfied, taking a step back from Felix. “Okay,” he acquiesced, taking a step back again before pausing again. “If you want to watch anything different, just let us know, okay?” he offered, and Felix blinked at him in surprise before nodding. “If you’re bored, we can change the channel. No big deal.”

Felix just stared at Changbin for a moment, shocked, before the moment shattered with Hyunjin’s cheer— his team had just scored a goal. Changbin let out a groan, hurrying back to the couch, and Felix let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he watched him go.

It’d been nearly a week of Felix and Changbin staying with Hyunjin, and so far, Felix hadn’t had any negative experience yet. Hyunjin was a fun yet gracious host; he always made sure Changbin and Felix had what they needed and felt at home in the space. He’d seemed to hit it off with Changbin right off the bat, the two of them bonding within a couple days over their knowledge of the Lower Capital, stories about Jeongin, their favourite sports. Felix, on the other hand, didn’t have a terrible amount in common with Hyunjin— they’d been a bit slower to connect, but nothing bad had happened between them. When Felix had offered to help cook, Hyunjin had been more than happy to acquiesce control of the kitchen to him, fetching the ingredients for whatever Felix planned on cooking (within reason). The room he and Changbin were staying in didn’t feel cramped despite the two of them in it, and Felix had yet to feel overwhelmingly bored with company around him all the time. So Felix couldn’t complain about the experience— except for one problem.

Changbin and Felix shared the same space all the time. Literally,  _ all  _ the time. While they were on Changbin’s ship, the two of them had at least had separate rooms, but now the two of them were constantly surrounded by each other. During the day, while Hyunjin worked, it was just the two of them in the house— and then when Hyunjin came home, it became the three of them, but Changbin and Felix were still in the same space. The only time the two of them were apart was if one of them kicked the other out of the bedroom— which had only happened once, when Changbin had spilled a drink on his clothes and needed to change— or if one of them was using the bathroom.

Felix should have been sick of Changbin by now; the alarming thing was that he found that he wasn’t. Instead of growing tired of Changbin, Felix instead found the other man a comfort. It was nice to have someone to spend time with and talk to about anything and everything, as the two of them used to do. Felix asked Changbin about his travels, and Changbin happily recounted his tales across the galaxy, of all the strange places he had visited and crazy things he had done for work. When Felix was comfortable, he’d shared some parts of his life with Changbin as well, talking about his home, his friends, his family. Even when it got hard to bear the thought of everything Felix had known being gone, Changbin was there to support him, letting Felix talk through his feelings about what he’d been through. And Changbin was always there to cheer him up afterwards, seeming to know just what to do to coax a smile out of Felix when he needed it. Felix liked being around Changbin— loved being around Changbin, despite the circumstances of how they’d met. The thought scared him more than he liked to admit.

As Felix joined Changbin and Hyunjin on the couch again, laughing and listening as the two bickered while explaining the sport they were watching to Felix, he pushed the thought out of his mind. How things were was fine for now. Felix had no idea how long he’d be stuck here with Changbin, but he knew that this was only the start— they had time to figure everything out.

* * *

Jisung fidgeted nervously in the passenger’s seat of the ship as they neared the atmosphere of the Capital, the dusty haze coating the planet and obscuring the surface other than the lights. He glanced at Minho, hoping for some sort of reaction, to see something on his face— but the only thing there was a hardened, blank expression, nothing shown on the surface.

It wasn’t like Minho was a particularly talkative person. He always had tended on the quiet side, more private, especially to people he didn’t know too well. When he’d first taken Jisung on board his ship a couple years ago, Minho had hardly spoken to him at all, beyond what was necessary and the occasional question about Jisung himself. But whenever Jisung had tried to ask Minho the same questions in return, tried to get to know the man he was now living with a bit more, Minho hadn’t opened up to him, keeping his answers short and minimum, if he even answered at all. Even with Jisung opening himself up, trying to lead by example, it had felt impossible to break through the cool exterior that Minho had put up around himself.

It had taken about a month for Minho to begin to talk to Jisung as if he was a partner in his business instead of just a stranger aboard the ship, and another two months before he started to treat Jisung like a friend. Still, though, the walls remained up, Minho keeping Jisung arm’s length away from the details of his life. It’d taken another six months after that before those walls finally seemed to break, and Minho had finally decided to let him in on his life before he met Jisung.

Jisung had known Minho’s mother was dead not long after he joined Minho on the ship; he’d seen the picture of her that Minho always kept by the control panel, and Minho had mentioned briefly that she’d passed away a couple of years before he’d met Jisung. Jisung had never thought to ask for details— with the way Minho looked at the picture sometimes, he figured the pilot didn’t need reminding— but one night, when the two of them were parked at a refuel station overnight, drinking a bit of cheap, homemade alcohol that Jisung had managed to grab off of a peddler on the last planet they had been at, Minho told him.

“I was a young gun who thought I knew everything,” Minho had explained, sitting on the floor of Jisung’s bedroom, his back against the bed. Jisung had paused, his glass halfway to his mouth as he watched Minho speak. Minho’s eyes were looking at the corner of the room, but they were far away, seeing beyond the walls of the ship to another part of his life. “I’d gotten my ship at sixteen and started working right away. I was a good pilot, a good shot, quick at my job— I thought I was untouchable.” Minho had scoffed then, his head tipping over, ear to his shoulder. “And then I messed with the wrong people, and my mom paid the price for my mistake.”

Jisung’s heart had ached, watching Minho’s rueful smile as he continued. “They found out my name, my home planet, where I lived,” he’d explained, eyes still looking at nothing, into the past. “Maybe they went there looking for me— I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But they found my mom.” Minho had shrugged, as if it was just a fact of life that he was explaining. Jisung didn’t want to know how many times Minho had relived this moment, by himself, trapped on this ship with his own thoughts. “And they killed her.”

Jisung hadn’t known what to say. Minho had knocked back the rest of his drink silently, the alcohol seeming to slide down his throat despite the burn, then poured himself another glass from the bottle sitting between them.

“I nearly quit after,” Minho had said quietly, once his glass was refilled, the cup held loosely in one hand. Jisung gripped his tight in two, looking down at the liquid inside, watching it sway as he moved. “I’d been working for her, to send her money. She was getting old, she couldn’t work as much, and I wanted to take care of her. When she was gone, there wasn’t a point anymore.”

Jisung looked up when Minho shifted, slouching against the bed so his head rested on the edge. He turned to look at Jisung, the thin blanket and mattress pillowing his cheek. “But I kept going, just because I didn’t know what else there was out there,” he’d said, and Jisung had felt pinned, unable to move under the weight of Minho’s sharp, dark eyes. “And then I met you.”

They hadn’t talked much the rest of the night, the alcohol making their limbs heavy, the atmosphere even heavier. They’d crawled into Jisung’s bed to sleep that night, and when they woke up, neither of them had talked about it. But it had been a tipping point in their relationship; from then on, Minho had approached all of his conversations with honesty, and Jisung had been delighted to see how scathingly honest Minho could be. But now, looking at Minho in the pilot’s seat of the ship, Jisung felt like he’d been transported two years in the past, when he’d first boarded the ship and Minho only thought of him as a stranger.

Gathering up his courage, he decided to press. “Minho,” he called— the other man just made a noncommittal noise, not looking away from the control panel. Jisung shifted, leaning forward in his seat to try and get his attention, but it was as if Minho couldn’t even see him. Jisung felt like his stomach was in knots. “You never told me why we’re going back to the Capital.”

“We have a mission,” Minho replied simply. Jisung felt unsettled just looking at him, but he didn’t want to look away in case he missed anything— a change in Minho’s expression, a glance at Jisung, anything. “I need to go see Jeongin to get the new route.”

“But we visited Jeongin already,” Jisung pointed out, a bit of concern bleeding into his voice. “When we were on the Capital last time, and we got Hyunjin to fix the landing gear on the ship. I went to see Jeongin, and he gave us the route for our next job, out in Trimobe. We were already more than two thirds of the way there before you turned back.”

Minho was silent for a few moments— not terribly long, but long enough for Jisung to feel worried. “We got a different one,” he said eventually. He still wouldn’t look at Jisung. “So we need to get a different route.”

“We could have just called Jeongin, we didn’t have to go all the way back to the Capital,” Jisung pointed out. He leaned further forward in his seat, trying to catch Minho’s attention. “And what about the other job? Are we just not doing it? We already paid Jeongin for that route, so we’re operating on a loss, now. And now we’re going to have to pay Jeongin for the new one, plus we used up supplies and fuel on the trip out and then back again, Minho, it just doesn’t make any sense—”

Jisung nearly jumped out of his skin when Minho suddenly slammed a fist against the control panel, hard enough that the picture of his mother on the dashboard tipped over from the force. “ _ Fuck _ , Jisung, do you ever stop talking?” he snapped, finally whipping around to look at Jisung. Jisung had seen Minho angry before, plenty of times, but not like this— not directed at him, never. “I swear to god, there’s only two of us on this ship, but you talk enough that it feels like there’s five. Just shut up for a minute, will you?”

Jisung watched as Minho turned back forward with a huff, grabbing the controls for the ship again roughly. His knuckles were white from how tight his grip was, his jaw clenched, his entire posture an angry, jagged line. Jisung looked at him until he couldn’t anymore, feeling Minho’s words like a punch in the face. He unbuckled his seatbelt quietly, not wanting to make any more noise than he needed to, in case he set Minho off again. When he made his way into his room and locked the door, Minho didn’t follow him.

* * *

Seungmin pursed his lips as he dragged his finger across the screen of his tablet to rewind the footage, pausing it, letting it play, looping it backwards again. The footage of Chan’s house played on repeat on the tablet screen, from the moment Seungmin had walked inside with Chan and Woojin until the moment they had walked out. He’d sent the footage from his body camera to his tablet to review once the three of them had made their way back to the ship port, Seungmin now waiting for the crew to return from on board the ship. Down the aisle from him, Woojin and Chan sat, the latter ramrod straight in his seat with his eyes shut. After finding out about the pod, Chan had been too shaken to do much more, and Woojin had recommended that that was enough for the day, despite Chan’s insistence that he could continue. Looking at Chan now, Seungmin was glad they had followed Woojin’s advice— he didn’t want to see what state Chan might have ended up in if they had kept going. 

Seungmin watched the footage again, feeling more and more unsettled the longer he watched. The house looked like a home, somewhere people had obviously lived, but the more Seungmin watched the footage, the more sterile it felt. Everything was suspiciously clean, considering it had been weeks since anyone was in there, if Chan were to be believed. Nothing was dirty, nothing was out of place. The kitchens were empty of any rotting food, no dishes in the sink. It was as if the home was just for show, and no one had ever lived there in the first place.

There must have been a clean up job, Seungmin figured. A damn good one, at that. But there was no way for an entire city to have been wiped off the map without any sort of evidence left behind. No damage, no struggle, no blood, and— as much as Seungmin hated to think about it— no bodies. They couldn’t have just vanished into thin air. There was something out there somewhere that could give Seungmin answers. There had to be something left behind, even if it was just ashes. Seungmin hoped that the missing pod might hold the answers.

It took a couple more hours for the rest of the investigative committee to finish up what they had set out to do for the day and return to the ship. Chan had fallen asleep in that time, or at least it seemed— the man’s eyes were still closed, but his posture was a bit more relaxed, sitting comfortably rather than tense like before. Next to him, Woojin also seemed to have dozed off, the prince’s head lolled onto his shoulder. Seungmin only noticed once a few members of the investigative committee boarded the ship again, including Jaebeom, who sat across from him.

“You finished up early,” Jaebeom said, straight to the point as he raised an eyebrow at Seungmin. To most people, being faced with Jaebeom’s no-nonsense nature would have been enough to make their heart pound with nerves, but it didn’t bother Seungmin. Jaebeom was just doing his job. “Did something go wrong?”

Seungmin shook his head, but he inclined his head towards where Chan and Woojin were seated. “It was really hard on Chan, and I didn’t want to make things worse by pressing him too hard,” he explained, and Jaebeom let out a short noise of understanding. “We retraced his steps on that day, and he explained what he could remember. It was pretty thorough, and I got enough information that I could start looking into leads, so we wrapped it up early.”

Jaebeom hummed, crossing his arms and smiling. “You’re too easy on people,” he complained, and Seungmin smiled sheepishly. “You and Wonpil, the two of you. You won’t find out the truth by being nice.”

“That’s why we never do interviews,” Seungmin explained, smiling when Jaebeom let out a laugh at that. He raised his eyebrows at Seungmin, though, when Seungmin leaned over with his tablet held out. “We did find something very interesting, though,” he added, sliding through the footage until Seungmin found the part where he had inspected the pods with Chan and Woojin. He pointed it out to Jaebeom, and Jaebeom nodded.

“Two are missing,” Jaebeom noted, and Seungmin paused the video, passing the tablet to Jaebeom for a closer look. He let Jaebeom inspect the footage closer as Seungmin continued to explain. “Chan says all three were there, and he didn’t see anyone else nearby who might have used the other one,” he elaborated, as Jaebeom nodded slowly, scrolling through the footage frame by frame to get a closer look. “I’ve already sent in a request for the others at the office to look for where the other pod might have gone. They’re trying to track it now.”

Jaebeom hummed, passing the tablet back to Seungmin. He sat back in his seat, arms crossed. “It’s possible that Chan misremembered,” he noted, and Seungmin nodded— he had considered that option already. “Maybe the pod was already gone when Chan got there, or maybe someone who was after him tried to follow his pod in another one. Either way, it’s worth looking into. Good work.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin replied, smiling as Jaebeom flashed him a thumbs up before going to check with the others. Jaebeom wasn’t the head of the investigative committee, but he was the person with the most seniority on this trip, and getting approval from his supervisors always felt good. 

It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the investigative committee reboarded the ship, and then they were off again, back to the Capital. Seungmin knew there would be plenty of work to do when they got back, but he couldn’t turn his brain off, the entire search with Chan replaying in his mind. He knew he was working against all hope in this situation, but Seungmin couldn’t help it— he needed to know the truth behind what happened to put his mind at ease.

“Seungmin,” a voice called, and Seungmin looked up from his desk. Standing in the doorway to Seungmin’s part of the office was Yeji, a young woman Seungmin’s age who was new to the committee. She gestured for Seungmin to come with her, and Seungmin paused the piece of audio he was transcribing to get up from his desk. When he made his way towards the door, he noticed that Yeji, despite her sharp features, looked excited. 

“We found the pod,” she told Seungmin once he was close enough, and Seungmin paused, his eyes widening. Yeji was grinning now, her eyes curved into crescents. “And you’re gonna wanna see it.”

It had been a few days since Seungmin and the others returned from Luyten. A few of the members had gone back to conduct more forensic investigations, but Seungmin had stayed behind on the Capital— Chan had done all that he could on the planet, and after making an official statement, there wasn’t much more work Seungmin could do out in the field. He’d stayed back on the Capital to continue working on the case locally, reviewing footage, radio communications, transcribing the interviews and statements the committee had gathered from people involved. He hadn’t forgotten about the pod— the thought lingered in his head every moment— but there wasn’t much Seungmin could do by way of finding it. He’d left it to the members of the team more suited to that sort of work, and had focused on what he could do. Now, it seemed that Seungmin’s patience had paid off.

Yeji led Seungmin to her work area in another part of the building— the young woman worked on a unit specifically meant for tracking and tracing intergalactic travel. She sat down at her desk, moving the screen at it to face Seungmin. On the screen, Seungmin could see what looked to be a refuel station, quite far out in space if the little white coordinates at the bottom of the screen were anything to go by. “Watch carefully,” she instructed, then pressed play.

Seungmin watched in silence, the footage still for a few moments before a ship landed on one of the docking ports at the refuel station, a heavy, industrial ship that looked like it belonged to a military force rather than anything meant for travel. Yeji sped up the footage, but the ship remained there, no one getting off or on. Seungmin was growing confused, but it wasn’t until a small ship appeared on the edge of the screen and Yeji slowed the footage down again that things began to make sense. 

“That’s the pod,” Yeji pointed out, gesturing at the smaller ship. “We were able to track it here, and then the ping stopped. We assume that it was destroyed shortly after.” She grinned up at Seungmin, pointing at the screen again. “Thankfully, this refuel station had secret security cameras to show us exactly what happened.”

Seungmin watched as the pod’s hatch opened, and three people walked out. At the same time, the larger ship opened its hatch, and two men climbed out of the ship. Seungmin’s eyes widened when he noticed that all of the people in the video were wearing the same clothes, garbed in identical military attire, except one— one of the people who exited the pod, seeming to be dragged by the two others, was dressed in plain clothes, a simple t-shirt and pants. Seungmin noted the person’s blond hair, and he held a hand out for Yeji to pause the video. “Can you zoom in?” he asked, and Yeji nodded, zooming in on the blond head of hair.

The person’s face wasn’t fully visible in the video, but something tugged at Seungmin, a bit of his memory pulled out of place by the head of blond hair. Then, it hit him— he’d seen that blond hair before. He’d seen that before in the pictures on the wall in Chan’s family home.

“Get me a clear shot of that person’s face,” Seungmin said, leaning even closer to the screen. Yeji got right to work, scrolling through the footage frame by frame until she found one— the blond young man was being passed between the two men from the pod to the two men from the larger ship, and as his head lolled, his face turned towards the camera. Yeji paused it immediately, looking to Seungmin for approval.

“Holy shit,” Seungmin breathed. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, leaned in closer just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Holy shit, that’s him. That’s Chan’s brother.”

Yeji’s eyes widened, and she looked back at the video. “That’s— what?” she exclaimed in disbelief. As she looked longer though, her face brightened, her expression hopeful. “I thought everyone was dead,” she admitted, immediately taking screenshots of the video and sending them to the rest of the committee members working on the case.

“Chan did say that his dad had mentioned Felix being taken,” Seungmin reminded, though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes himself. Seungmin had watched the video of their walk through Chan’s house enough times that he couldn’t be mistaken, but it was still shocking to really see. “He wasn’t sure if Felix had made it out alive.”

Yeji let out a laugh, bright and joyful. “Well, I guess we have some news to give,” she said happily, and Seungmin nodded, hope rising in his chest.


	5. part four

Minho stared at the doorway to Jeongin’s unit like it was the gates to hell, feeling like the small, metal doorframe was looming over him. He felt like he was watching himself from outside of his body— had felt like that since he got the call, if he was being honest. It had only been a couple of days, but it felt like it was simultaneously just a few minutes ago and three months ago. Everything around Minho had been warped since then, only one thought in his mind—  _ finish this job and find out what happened to your mom. _

He’d managed to pry Jeongin’s address out of Jisung, the younger man giving it to him reluctantly. After the way Minho had snapped at him, he couldn’t blame Jisung. He felt sorry, honestly, and he wanted to apologize, but he didn’t know how. Apologizing would mean telling Jisung what he was about to do, and telling Jisung what he was about to do meant that Jisung would try to stop him.

Jisung had always hated hurting people. It was a side effect of their job, yes— people were going to get hurt. Sometimes Jisung and Minho were specifically hired for people to get hurt. But the only time Jisung ever willingly hurt people was when those people were bad; he didn’t want to hurt anyone he believed to be good, only people who had done something wrong. In this situation, Minho knew that the lines would be blurred. Yes, the smuggler— what was his name? Changbin?— running off without completing the job was bad. But it’s not as if the job he was given was right in the first place. Smuggling someone who had been kidnapped across the galaxy against their will wasn’t exactly a declaration of stellar morals, so Minho could understand why he had run away. But if finding Changbin meant that he would be able to find out who killed his mother— if doing this could put an end to the guilt Minho had been carrying all this time— then it wasn’t something he could refuse. The best he could do was keep Jisung as far from it as possible— skimp on the details, keep him in the dark. He didn’t want Jisung getting involved. He just wanted to get things over with.

Minho had gone to Jeongin’s place first because he hadn’t the faintest clue where else to start. The person who called him had mentioned a navigator in the Lower Capital, and Minho was sure that there were others out there, but he didn’t know anyone other than Jeongin. He hoped that Jeongin wasn’t the person involved— hoped to death that he wouldn’t have to cross Jeongin in order to finish this job— but there wasn’t anywhere else to start. He knocked on the door to Jeongin’s place, scuffing his boots on the floor as he waited.

It didn’t take long for the door to open and Jeongin to appear on the other side of it, his face lighting up in surprise when he saw Minho. Fuck, he was such a nice-looking kid. Minho felt horrible. “Oh, Minho!” he said, blinking at him in shock. Minho had never been to visit Jeongin directly before— even when Jeongin was still living with his parents, Jisung was always the one to go to see him. He still knew Minho from the times they had met up in other places, at Hyunjin’s workshop or somewhere for drinks, but Minho had never shown up at his house before, and his appearance now clearly took Jeongin by surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help with a job, but it was too sensitive to call you for,” Minho explained. Easily, practiced. He’d thought up what to say to Jeongin well in advance, before him and Jisung had even landed on the Capital. He nodded his head further into Jeongin’s apartment— the young man was still standing in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“Uh— yeah,” Jeongin stammered out, moving out of the way for Minho. Minho stepped inside, waiting for Jeongin to close the door behind him. Minho gave the place a quick glance over as he took a seat on one of the hovering stools in the room— no other doors, only one window at the back of the unit where Jeongin’s living space was. Great. Jeongin walked past him to take a seat on the other stool, further into the unit, gliding along the desk towards one of the bigger screens in Jeongin’s set-up. “I thought you were on your way to Trimobe,” he commented, giving Minho a glance— he was nervous, that much Minho could tell. “Something happen?”

“We got a different job that took priority,” Minho answered, intentionally vague. Jeongin just nodded slowly, watching Minho. Minho clenched his jaw, deciding to just bite the bullet— no time better than the present. “I’m looking for someone by the name of Changbin Seo.”

The change in Jeongin was minute, but instantaneous. A normal person may not have been able to notice it, but Minho had spent years watching people, judging their reactions, taking in the way they acted when asked certain questions or given certain information. To him, it was obvious— the way Jeongin’s back straightened, the way he seemed to buffer for a moment before moving again, the slightest stall throwing him off before he got on track again— Jeongin knew something.

The boy hid it well, though; his eyebrows furrowed, confusion that could almost pass for genuine passing across his face. “Never heard that name,” Jeongin said, so casual that it would have fooled almost anyone. “Why are you looking for him?”

“He’s run off on a job with a person he was supposed to be smuggling,” Minho said coolly. He caught the way Jeongin’s eyes glanced around for his phone— it was on the long expanse of desk that Jeongin and him were sitting by, but it was closer to Minho, within arms reach for him but out of arms reach for Jeongin. Jeongin was looking back at him in an instant though, a plan clearly formulating in his mind. “The person he was smuggling is named Felix,” Minho added, just to see how Jeongin would react, but the boy continued to stare at Minho, watching him. “I was wondering if you could tell me where they are.”

Jeongin let out a hum, contemplative as if he was wracking his brain, then shook his head. “Sorry, neither of those names ring a bell,” he said, turning back towards the screen. He tapped away at it, then stopped when Minho shifted a bit closer, trying to see what he was doing. Jeongin turned back to Minho, and this time he was closed off, his arms crossed across his chest and his expression stony. “I don’t think I can help you.”

Minho’s jaw clenched. The kid was onto him. “Okay,” he said, and Jeongin’s posture had just begun to relax when Minho leaned forward, his elbows against his knees. “Let’s cut the crap then, shall we?” 

Jeongin was instantly on guard again. He looked down at Minho, shoulders back, stance firm. “There’s no crap,” he bit out. Ah, there was the anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Minho.”

“Oh, I think you know very well what I’m talking about,” Minho said with a bit of a laugh, dry and humourless. He stood up from his stool suddenly, and Jeongin’s eyes widened before he hurried to follow. “And I think you’re going to tell me,” Minho added as he stared down Jeongin, “before this gets ugly.”

Jeongin stood there for a few moments, just watching Minho, tense like a coiled spring. Then, suddenly, the boy charged forward, trying to dive around Minho, making a break for his phone and the door at the same time. Thankfully, Minho was in the way of both of them and had been expecting Jeongin to do something along those lines— he managed to catch Jeongin by the shoulder, hauling the boy backwards and shoving him further into the unit. Jeongin stumbled and fell hard on his back from the force, tumbling over himself to a stop near the living area of the unit.

Minho sighed, advancing on Jeongin. “You know, I like you, so I really don’t want to hurt you,” he explained, as Jeongin tried to pick himself up off the floor on shaky legs. The boy clearly had never been in a fight before— Minho could see him shaking from the adrenaline, his breaths already heavy. Minho, meanwhile, was as calm as he could manage, not yet hit by the fight-or-flight instinct that was taking over Jeongin at the moment. “So if you want things to be easy, you can just let me know where they are, I’ll pay you, and then I’ll be on my way. If you don’t tell me— well.” Minho shrugged, watching as Jeongin glared at him. “I’m not leaving here without what I need to know, so I’ll get it from you somehow.”

“I’m not gonna tell you,” Jeongin spat. The boy was hissing mad now, like a cat with its hackles raised, ready to take a swing. Minho didn’t want to make this more difficult than it needed to be, but clearly these people were worth something to Jeongin, if he was willing to risk a fight with Minho over them. “Get lost, Minho. I don’t care what the fuck you do, but you’re not getting anything out of me.”

“Really,” Minho said flatly, unimpressed. He shrugged his shoulders, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, so unless you’re gonna make me…”

Jeongin didn’t seem to need any time to contemplate that— as soon as the words were out of Minho’s mouth, he was charging at Minho again, this time ready to swing. Minho simply ducked under the fist and tackled Jeongin from underneath, catching him in the stomach with his shoulder and shoving him back again. Jeongin stumbled back heavily, choking as the wind was knocked out of him, but the kid was resilient— he only took a couple of seconds before he was at Minho again, taking another swing at him. Minho dodged the hook, then reared up when Jeongin was off balance from the force, using the moment his guard was down to bring a leg up and kick Jeongin in the ribs. The twist of Jeongin’s body and the strength of the kick sent Jeongin off his feet, unable to catch himself as he fell. Then, regret dropped into Minho’s stomach as a block of ice; as Jeongin fell, his head caught on the table in the living area of the unit with a crack. Minho watched with a slow, spreading horror as Jeongin collapsed to the ground next to the table, limp and unconscious. 

Minho felt like the world stopped for a few moments when Jeongin hit the floor, his breath caught in his chest. Fuck,  _ fuck _ , what had he done? He moved forward slowly in case Jeongin was faking it, but Minho knew there was no way to fake the way Jeongin’s head had smacked against the edge of the table. He nudged the boy with his boot, but the boy didn’t move, as limp as a ragdoll when Minho tried to shake him.

“Jeongin,” Minho called, hating how his voice shook, but there was no response from the young man. He leaned in a bit to get a closer look, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the boy’s chest rising and falling. So he hadn’t killed him; Jeongin had just been knocked out by the force. Minho took a moment to steel himself, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and taking a breath.

What if he had killed Jeongin just now? What if he’d pushed him harder, at a different angle, and things had gone much worse? Would it have been worth it in the end, if it meant Minho finally got closure for what happened to his mother? A natural side effect, a casualty to the cause? Would he have been able to live with himself if things had gone differently?

Minho felt nausea rising in his throat, acidic and hot, and he sucked in a slow breath to try and push it down. He couldn’t think about that right now— he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He pulled his gaze away from Jeongin and looked back at his workspace, trying to figure out where to go from here. He hurried over to the screen Jeongin had been tapping at before, trying to see what information was in there, but there was a password on the system—  _ of course there would be _ , Minho thought,  _ Jeongin isn’t that stupid _ . He looked around the immediate area, kicking his way through the wires crisscrossing the floor, looking in drawers and cabinets, trying to see if there was anywhere Jeongin had written down the code to his system, but there was nothing. He let out a curse, kicking out at one of the stools in frustration, the hovering piece of metal sliding across the room until it hit the wall.

Minho caught sight of the shelving units in Jeongin’s units then, one of them covered in external hard drives, no doubt filled with data from Jeongin’s work. He wasn’t sure what he would do with them, but he had to take what he could get. He picked his way through the wires again, grabbing the first hard drive he could reach and pulling it off the shelf, the wires plucked out of the back of it in the process. Minho had just reached for the second one when he heard Jeongin’s tablet ring.

Right, the phone. Minho looked over his shoulder to see the tablet where he had left it, on the desk where him and Jeongin had been sitting. It blared some sort of song Minho didn’t know— he couldn’t even understand the language— but Jeongin didn’t move, still collapsed on the floor in a lump. Minho slowly moved over to the tablet, catching sight of the name “HYUNJIN” displayed across the screen.

Carefully, Minho picked up the phone, making sure not to answer the call. He waited until it rang out, then scrolled through the notifications on the screen.

**from: HYUNJIN**

jeongin!

jeonginnieeee

do you wanna get dinner

actually not a question. let’s get dinner

i’m tired of third wheeling changbin and felix every minute

seriously they need to just kiss or something already

you there?

hey, answer me

Minho’s eyes widened when he read the messages. So not only did Jeongin know where Changbin and Felix were— he’d likely been the one to help them hide out on the Capital as well. Even worse, the two of them were assumedly staying with Hyunjin, if the mechanic’s messages were anything to go by. Minho bit his lip, glancing at where Jeongin was on the floor nervously.

He jumped when the tablet vibrated in his hand, another message from Hyunjin appearing on the screen. 

**from: HYUNJIN**

i’m coming over since you’re ignoring me :(

Minho hurried to set the phone back down on the desk, glancing at Jeongin one more time. Guilt gnawed at his insides, but he couldn’t stay behind— he had no idea when Hyunjin would get here, and he didn’t want to get caught. He shoved the hard drive he had grabbed in his pocket, then hurried out the door, jogging down the street and away from Jeongin’s unit. Jisung was waiting for him a bit of a ways away, a bag of grains in his hands; Minho had sent him to pick one up when he’d gone to meet Jeongin, just to give the other something to do. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw Minho jogging over, clearly confused.

“Hey,” he called once Minho was close enough. Even though Jisung had been upset with him earlier, Minho knew that Jisung would still talk to him, still reach out if he was worried. The guilt inside Minho clawed at him even harder for taking advantage of that, but he pushed it down. “Everything okay?”

“Hyunjin’s in danger,” Minho lied, watching how Jisung’s face morphed into one of shock. He grabbed Jisung by the hand, looking down at their clasped palms just so he didn’t have to look at Jisung’s face as he began to pull Jisung down the street. “He called Jeongin while I was there. Let’s go.”

“What— in danger?” Jisung asked, beginning to follow after Minho. His steps were slow, hesitant; Minho picked up his pace, pulling Jisung along harder. “How? What happened?”

“He didn’t have time to explain,” Minho pressed, glancing back at Jisung. The younger man was still looking at Minho in confusion and shock, but he wasn’t pulling away, which was a good sign. “Just said he’s at his house. We have to go,  _ now _ .”

Jisung didn’t say anything for a minute, though Minho could feel him following along. Nerves began to stir in his stomach when Jisung remained silent for too long, and he chanced a glance back, looking at Jisung imploringly. “Jisung?”

Jisung was silent for a moment more, then nodded, running after Minho in earnest through the streets of the Lower Capital. “Okay,” he said eventually. His face had hardened into something serious and determined, guarded in a way that was so unlike Jisung. Minho hated it, but he couldn’t change it— there was no going back from here. “Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

Seungmin watched through a two-way mirror as his supervisor, Jaebeom, and another member of the investigative committee— a woman a little bit older than Seungmin by the name of Chaeyoung— led an interrogation, the man they had brought in for questioning sweating as he sat across the table from them. Seungmin would be sweating too, if it were him— Jaebeom and Chaeyoung were nice people outside of work, but on the job, the two of them were able to put down the pressure in a way that most people would find terrifying. He watched as Chaeyeong pushed a picture across the table that Seungmin knew was a screenshot from the video Yeji had found. A part of him twisted in satisfaction when he saw the man’s expression morph into panic.

Everything had happened so quickly after the video was found. With the screenshots from the video Yeji had taken, along with screenshots from Seungmin’s own video of Chan’s house and Chan’s own assistance, they’d been able to confidently identify the blond man being dragged in the video as Felix. The video had been passed around the office, everyone’s collective effort put forward to dig up whatever they could, and another member of the staff named Jaehyung had recognized the military uniforms the men were wearing. The uniforms being identified, along with the emblem on the larger ship, has been another major breakthrough for the case: they belonged to none other than Luyten, Chan’s home planet. Immediately, every soldier possible was brought in for questioning, the Capital’s authorities and intergalactic governments working together to track every last one of them down and bring them to the investigative committee’s office.

The one being interviewed now, in particular, was one that had been identified in the video as one of the men from the ship. Seungmin saw Jaebeom lean forward across the table, eyes narrowed as he spoke, and the man began to look around frantically, leaning back in the chair away from Jaebeom and Chaeyoung.

Next to Seungmin, Wonpil let out a noise, squirming at the sight. “I would not want to be him right now,” he said when Seungmin looked over at him, his eyebrows raised. “Jaebeom is  _ scary _ . If I were in his place, I’d be terrified.”

“Jaebeom’s not that bad,” Seungmin argued, and Wonpil just shook his head with a smile. “That’s because he really likes you,” Wonpil fired back good-naturedly. Both of them looked back through the mirror, watching as the man spoke frantically, Chaeyoung and Jaebeom watching him like a pair of lions, waiting for the moment to pounce. “He’s not a bad guy, but if Jaebeom doesn’t like you, you’ll absolutely know it. I wouldn’t mess with him.”

Seungmin just let out a hum, nodding with Wonpil. He startled when Chaeyoung suddenly stood up, turning to look through the two-way mirror; Seungmin instantly knew that they had gotten a lead, and as Jeongyeon hurried out of the room, Seungmin and Wonpil rushed out to meet her.

“You were right,” Chaeyoung said the second she saw Seungmin. The door to the interrogation room had hardly closed behind her when she spoke. “Seungmin, you were right. They took that boy— Felix, the brother of the guy who escaped— and they ran with him. They thought they could sell him for money, but apparently the guy they hired to transport Felix ran off with Felix and the money, so they don’t know where he is.”

Seungmin just stared at Chaeyoung, stunned. Next to him, Wonpil seemed just as shocked, but excited— he was looking between Seungmin and Chaeyoung in awe. “They— wow,” Seungmin tried to say, but his head was reeling. He’d been right, and now Chaeyoung and Jaebom had found this huge lead. He shook his head, trying to pull himself together. “Who did they hire?” Seungmin asked once he’d gathered himself; Chaeyoung was still looking at him eagerly, clearly having more information to share. 

Chaeyoung nodded quickly, excited to tell Seungmin what they had found. “Some smuggler named Changbin Seo,” she explained, and Seungmin began to wrack his memory to see if he had ever heard that name before. “Apparently he doesn’t smuggle people, not usually, so they thought it would be best to hire him. I guess their plan backfired, huh?”

Seungmin nodded, trying to log all of the information in his mind. “Guess so,” he replied, and Chaeyoung let out a noise of agreement. “And they don’t know where they are now?”

Chaeyoung shook her head. “Completely off the grid,” she explained, and Seungmin sighed. Tracking down would be difficult. “No one’s got any idea. But I’m sure there’s got to be some record of them somewhere— refuel stations, street cameras, satellites. There’s no way they’ve been moving around completely unnoticed.”

“We’ll get a search going,” Wonpil assured, and Seungmin nodded along with him. Chaeyoung was smiling at the both of them, proud of what she had found— Seungmin smiled back at her. “Let us know anything else you find.” 

“Of course,” Chaeyoung promised, and then she was running back into the interrogation room. Seungmin looked at Wonpil, who looked just as keyed-up as Seungmin felt. They had a lead. “I guess the hunt is on,” Wonpil said, and Seungmin nodded, the two of them hurrying to the main office to tell the rest of their colleagues together.

* * *

"Jeongin," Hyunjin called, his fist banging on the door of Jeongin's apartment. "Hey, Jeongin, I know you're in there. Get up and answer the door. Are you really sleeping this early?"

Hyunjin had dropped by Jeongin's place once he'd closed up shop for the day, bored from an uneventful work day and tired of third-wheeling in his own apartment to Changbin and Felix. Normally, Jeongin would be down to hang out— meeting up at the bar, going to grab something cheap to eat, or even just walking around— but Jeongin hadn't answered his texts or calls while Hyunjin was heading over. Now, here Hyunjin was, standing outside of Jeongin's door with no answer.

Hyunjin heaved out a sigh, looking at his phone again. Even if Jeongin was busy, he'd usually send a text telling Hyunjin he was and to leave him alone, but Jeongin hadn't answered any of his messages in the last hour. All of his calls had gone unanswered too, ringing out until they went to voicemail. "Jeongin," Hyunjin drawled through the metal door warningly as he pressed the 'call' button next to Jeongin's contact. "If you don't answer me this time, I'm gonna be mad."

Hyunjin waited with his ear to the door, listening closely for any sounds from inside. After a few moments, he heard it— the sound of Jeongin's tablet ringing, the song he had set as Hyunjin's alert bouncing against the door to the unit. Hyunjin waited for any other sounds from inside— Jeongin answering the phone, Jeongin moving to get it, Jeongin turning off the ringer— but there was nothing.

The call rang out, and Hyunjin heard the familiar voicemail tone coming through his own tablet.

"Yah, Jeongin!" Hyunjin shouted through the door. He shoved his tablet into the pocket of his pants, then grabbed the doorknob, rattling it. "Are you ignoring me? I swear, if you're pulling some prank, I'll—"

The door clicked open.

As soon as the door pushed open slightly, worry took hold around Hyunjin's throat in a vice grip. Jeongin was young, yes, but the boy was far from stupid; he took his job seriously, always making sure to lock his door and have his extra security measures on to keep him and his data safe. Jeongin would never leave the door open like this, not willingly. Which meant—

Hyunjin slowly pushed the door open. Inside, Jeongin's work area, just beyond the door, was a mess. Wires were askew, the stools were torn over; clearly someone had been looking for something in Jeongin’s apartment. One part of Jeongin's set up of hard drives was missing as well, looking to have been ripped from the shelf it was on, its wires dangling over the edge. Hyunjin spotted Jeongin's phone on the table top, still on, but didn't see Jeongin— at least, not until he stepped a bit further into the unit and saw a figure slumped on the floor of the kitchen.

Hyunjin tripped and stumbled his way over to the kitchen, his feet catching on the wires that crossed the ground. He felt like he couldn't breathe, everything in his body screaming to run, screaming that it wasn't true. He hoped that he was wrong, that this was some prank or misunderstanding— but when Hyunjin dropped to his knees, he saw that it was Jeongin strewn on the ground on his side, blood on his head.

"No," Hyunjin choked out, his hands shaking as he reached for Jeongin. He pushed Jeongin's shoulder, trying to jostle him, but Jeongin just rolled onto his back limply, the blood following the movement of his body. Hyunjin felt like he was going to be sick. "No, no, no, Jeongin, no!"

Hyunjin grabbed at Jeongin's face, his neck, desperate that something would elicit a reaction out of Jeongin. He nearly sobbed when he felt a pulse in Jeongin's neck, and breaths, shallow and laboured, coming out of Jeongin's mouth. He was alive, at least, Hyunjin thought, his hands resting on Jeongin's chest just to feel his pulse, the rise and fall. But they still needed help, and  _ fast _ .

"Jeongin," Hyunjin mumbled, shaky, incoherent. He pulled his hands away from Jeongin, hurriedly grabbing his tablet out of the pocket he'd shoved it in. At least it was open to the call screen. "I'm gonna get help, okay? Don't worry, I'm— you're gonna be okay." His hands quaked so hard that he dropped the tablet, scrambling to pick it up again. What was the emergency services number again? His brain felt flattened— he couldn't remember anything. The panel of numbers stared back at him, mocking.

Hyunjin jumped when Jeongin let out a cough, his phone falling to the ground again. He lurched forward, putting his hands on Jeongin's shoulders. The boy's eyelids were fluttering, struggling, trying to open. "Jeongin," he gasped, patting his shoulder, patting his cheeks, trying to bring the boy back to consciousness. "Hey, hey, hey, Jeongin, it's me, it's Hyunjin, I'm here."

Jeongin's eyes opened for a few seconds, seeming to try and focus on Hyunjin looming over him, before they were fluttering again. "Hyunjin?" Jeongin managed to mutter out— his voice was pained, slurring. "No, you— you’re not— Felix?"

Hyunjin shook his head hurriedly, gently shaking Jeongin's shoulder again. The boy's eyebrows furrowed, and he let out an uncomfortable noise. "No, Jeongin, it's me, Hyunjin," Hyunjin said again, trying to speak loud and clear in case it helped Jeongin understand him. Instead, Jeongin just winced against the noise. "It's Hyunjin, I'm— we're gonna get help, so stay awake, yeah?"

"No," Jeongin whined, as Hyunjin let go of him to grab for his phone again. One of Jeongin's hands lifted up, fluttering in the air. "Hyunjin no, you gotta— Changbin and Felix, they're gonna... You gotta stop them..."

Hyunjin froze at that, his fingers hovering above the screen. As if in slow motion, everything seemed to sink in at once. Jeongin attacked at home, knocked out cold on the floor. The workspace ransacked. The missing hard drive. Changbin and Felix. Everything made sense.

Hyunjin hurriedly skimmed through his contacts until he found the one labelled "seungminnie <3", then hit call.

* * *

Seungmin sat at his desk, his head in his hands, reading over the interview transcripts for what felt like the tenth time. Maybe if he looked at it enough, he'd be able to glean something new from it— something he hadn't noticed before would jump out at him, some special clue or code hidden in the answers, and he'd be able to figure out where Changbin and Felix had disappeared to. He picked his head up and looked around, seeing his coworkers around him all working similarly hard, scouring street footage, satellite imaging, records of registered vehicles for space travel— anything that could help them start looking, give them even the most remote clue as to where in the galaxy to search. Unfortunately, none of them looked like they'd found anything yet, all similarly as confused as Seungmin. He let out a slow sigh, sinking his face into his hands again.

On his desk next to him, Seungmin's tablet lit up, showing an incoming call. "hyunjinnie <3" was proclaimed across the screen. Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed. Since Hyunjin had given him his number, the two of them had only messaged each other sparingly— usually just a quick check in on how the other was doing— and definitely hadn't called, even though Seungmin had thought of it. He normally made a rule for himself to not answer any personal calls at work, but the absurdity of Hyunjin calling out of the blue set something off inside of him. He glanced around at his coworkers for a moment before picking his tablet up off the table and answering the call.

"Hyunjin, I'm at work," he began, but as soon as he spoke, Hyunjin let out a sob over the line, and worry struck Seungmin like a bolt of lightning. "Hyunjin," Seungmin said seriously. He was vaguely aware of his coworkers looking at him, and he kept his head down, turning away. "Hyunjin, what's wrong?"

" _ Help _ ," Hyunjin gasped down the line, " _ Seungmin, you have to help us, they— someone got Jeongin—" _

"Hyunjin?" Seungmin asked. His coworkers were still staring at him, so Seungmin hurriedly got up from his desk, grabbing his coat and hurrying towards the door. "Hyunjin, what happened?"

Hyunjin let out a gasping breath again, and Seungmin heard another voice mumbling in the background. " _ Someone attacked Jeongin, _ " Hyunjin explained clumsily. " _ They came and attacked him and— they're after Felix, Seungmin, I know I should have told you and I'm sorry, but you need to help us, please—" _

Seungmin froze, one arm through the sleeve of his coat. He must have heard wrong. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, grimly polite. "Did you just say Felix?"

" _ Yes, Felix, _ " Hyunjin confirmed through the phone. Seungmin couldn't believe it. " _ He— he's been staying at my house, him and Changbin, they got Jeongin and they're going to find them now, Seungmin, I'm sorry, _ please."

It took a couple of seconds for Seungmin to fully process what Hyunjin was saying. Hyunjin had known about Felix. Hyunjin had known who Felix was. Hyunjin had been keeping Felix and Changbin in his own house while Seungmin had been scouring every inch of the galaxy looking for them. And Hyunjin had known Seungmin was looking for Felix, and kept this a secret from him anyways.

There was a sniffle from down the line, a sad, watery noise that snapped Seungmin out of his daze. " _ Seungmin? _ " Hyunjin said quietly, his voice trembling. " _ Are you there? _ "

Seungmin clenched his jaw, continuing to put on his coat. "I'm here," he said flatly as he hurried down the stairs of his building, heading towards the exit. He pulled up his messages when he was out of the building, sending a message to his coworkers to let them know what was going on. "I'm here. I'm coming. Where are you?"

" _ I'm with Jeongin, _ " Hyunjin said in a rush. " _ I'm— but he's hurt, Seungmin, I need to _ —"

"I've got it," Seungmin cut him off. On the other end of the line, Hyunjin fell silent. Seungmin knew he was being cold right now, but he couldn't manage not to be. Hyunjin had known this whole time— Hyunjin had known everything, and he hadn't told Seungmin a thing. "I'm heading to your place. Call for medical help for— for Jeongin." Fuck, who even was Jeongin? Seungmin had never met him before, and Hyunjin had never mentioned him. What else was Hyunjin keeping from him? "I'll deal with things with Felix and Changbin."

" _ Seungmin, _ " Hyunjin mumbled from the other end of the line. He sounded like he was crying. Seungmin stamped down the part of him that felt guilty for making that happen as he shot a quick message to Woojin, informing him of the developments to the situation along with Hyunjin’s address. " _ I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me, I just— I needed to." _

"I'm not mad," Seungmin lied briskly as he climbed into one of the marked vehicles that the investigative committee used for business travel. He knew there was no way Hyunjin would believe him, but he said it anyways, if only to provide a false comfort. "It's fine. I'll handle it. Call for help and then let me know, okay?"

Hyunjin was silent for a moment, then he let out a sniffling sound. " _ Okay _ ," he mumbled wetly. " _ Okay, let me know. Let me know." _

Seungmin swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. Everything was so fucked up. "I will," Seungmin said, before hanging up the call. "I promise."

* * *

“Felix,” Changbin called as he walked out of the bathroom, towelling his hair. The other man looked over from across the main room; he was standing in the kitchen at the stove, a large pair of tongs in his hand and a smile on his face. Changbin made his way over, following the amazing smell that had drawn him out of the bathroom, hurrying to finish his shower to see what was going on. “What are you making?” he asked, and Felix grinned.

“Nothing much,” Felix said, aiming for casual, but the smile on his face gave him away. He stepped out of the way for Changbin to see what he was making— in a pan on the stove were strips of fresh meat, coated in a sauce and caramelizing slowly in the pan. Changbin breathed in the scent, letting out a sigh of bliss just to hear Felix laugh. The younger man had taken to cooking most of the meals for himself, Changbin, and Hyunjin when the mechanic was home; he’d said at first it was to pay back Hyunjin for his kindness, but Changbin realized quickly that Felix just genuinely enjoyed cooking, especially cooking for other people. His reactions when other people enjoyed his food were priceless— Changbin would do anything to see Felix’s face light up like that, especially compared to how he had looked when Changbin first met him.

“Hyunjin told me before he left that he was thinking of meeting a friend tonight, so it’s just us two,” Felix explained, moving back in front of the pan to move the meat around again. Changbin saw a few other things out on the counter— some vegetables coated in a red sauce soaking in a bowl, and some sort of grain, cleaned and ready to be cooked. Felix looked back at him, and Changbin’s heart skipped a beat at how happy Felix looked, his whole face glowing with it. Even with everything that happened, even with him and Changbin being stuck hiding in Hyunjin’s house, he still found a way to be brighter than the sun. “He told me I could use whatever was in the kitchen, though,” Felix finished, “so I thought I’d make something special.”

Changbin couldn’t help but smile back at Felix— his happiness was contagious. “Aw, just for me?” he asked, teasing and overdramatic, but then he saw the flush that rose to Felix’s cheeks at that, a smile still gracing his face, and Changbin paused, his heart thumping.

After a couple of seconds, Felix looked over at him, giving him a nod. “Yeah, for you,” he said honestly, and Changbin knew his shock was apparent on his face. But a second later, Felix was grinning, turning back to the meat and mixing it around happily. “And for me!” he tacked on joyfully, and the honest happiness of it startled a laugh out of Changbin, Felix laughing along with him.

The two of them fell into a warm, companionate silence after that, Changbin lingering around the kitchen as Felix prepared their meal. Changbin asked Felix after a few minutes if there was anything he could do to help, but Felix had simply shook his head, assuring Changbin that he didn’t need it— Changbin knew that he wasn’t the best in the kitchen anyways, so he wasn’t offended. He simply kept Felix company as he cooked, leaned up against the sink as Felix worked away on their meal.

Suddenly, the front door burst open with a bang, startling Felix and Changbin from the comfortable silence the two of them had been lulled into. For a second, Changbin thought it was simply Hyunjin playing a trick on them, but then he looked over and saw the two unfamiliar people standing at the door. One of them was a bit broader than the other, with a pointed nose and a cool expression, while the other Changbin could only have described as a boy, thin and wiry.

Quick on his feet as well, apparently, as Changbin hardly had a chance to react before the boy was sprinting at him. He jumped up, reaching for his gun on the nearby table, but the wiry man was there already, a hand flung out to knock the gun off the table and sending it skittering across the room. Although Felix was slower to react between the two of them, he seemed to realize what was happening when he saw the move Changbin made for his gun. He quickly hopped up, scrambling over the back of the couch to make a break for the bedroom door. Unfortunately, his slower reaction time wasn’t enough to make up for Felix’s fast running speed— the broader man seemed to be nearly as fast as his counterpart, feet slamming across the floor so fast that he could quickly catch Felix. He caught Felix’s arm and yanked the boy back, Felix letting out a desperate shout of “No!” as he tumbled backwards into his captor.

The boy who had targeted Changbin lunged at him as soon as the gun was out of the way, ready to take him out. Thankfully, Changbin didn’t rely on his gun to fight— he bent his arm and swung at the elbow when he saw the boy coming for him, smashing him in the temple and sending him stumbling across the room for a few steps until he dropped to the ground, clutching his head. Seeing his partner hurt must have had some sort of effect on the man holding Felix— his grip loosened in shock, and Felix managed to hit the man hard enough to stun him, wrenching himself out of his grasp. He ran to Changbin, who was trying to make a grab for his gun, but unfortunately, the boy he had hit was much smarter than he had looked. He’d stumbled near enough to Changbin’s gun that, in his fall to the floor, he’d managed to grab it. He slid the clattering metal across the floor to his partner, who picked it up with ease, and Changbin realized with a dawning horror that this was something they had done before.  _ They had practiced. They had planned this. _

With a click, Changbin was staring down the barrel of his own gun, the stranger steadily aimed on him.

“I’m assuming you two are Felix and Changbin,” the man holding the gun said. Changbin’s gaze bounced between his and Felix’s two attackers frantically.  _ What were they? Bounty hunters? Hitmen? The people who Changbin was supposed to deliver Felix to? _ It couldn’t be the last option— the one Changbin had hit looked to be just as young as Felix himself— but right now, there was no time for speculating.

“Who sent you?” Changbin shouted, reaching behind him for Felix. The young man gripped his hand like a lifeline, and even with such a tight grip, Changbin could tell he was shaking like a leaf. He was pressed against Changbin, so close that Changbin could feel his nervous, gasping breaths as puffs of air on the back of his neck. “What do you want?”

The man took a few advancing steps on Changbin and Felix, his aim not wavering. From the other side of him, Changbin could hear the young man he had knocked down shifting on the floor. “You weren’t supposed to end up on the Capital,” the man holding the gun said by way of an answer. He tilted his head at Changbin curiously, as if urging him to explain.

Changbin’s body was thrumming with adrenaline, his heartbeat racing in his ears. “I’m trying to protect him,” Changbin barked, taking a few steps back. He felt Felix’s feet stutter as his back hit a wall, his chest up against Changbin’s back.  _ Shit _ . “Leave us alone. He doesn’t deserve this.”

The man didn’t budge under Changbin’s insistence, seeming to be completely unfazed. He nodded his head over Changbin’s shoulder at Felix, who Changbin felt flinch behind him. “So that’s Felix, then,” he commented coolly. His grip on the gun didn’t waver. “He’s coming with me.”

Changbin scoffed, a vicious, vehement sound that tore its way out of his throat. “Over my dead body,” he spat.

The man, to Changbin’s horror, shrugged. “If you say so,” he replied, his voice eerily calm, then the gun dropped and Changbin heard a bang.

It felt like Changbin’s leg exploded when the bullet hit, pain tearing through his body like a lit match. The splatter of blood that burst from the wound made it seem like it had too, and Changbin couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shout as his leg suddenly gave out. Thankfully, Felix and the wall caught his fall, the boy grabbing him frantically to help him reach the ground. Everything seemed in a haze to Changbin— his eyes were closed shut and his jaw was clenched against the pain, but he could feel the warm stream of blood against his hands where they gripped his leg, could feel Felix’s hands gripping his face, his shoulders, frantically flitting about his body as if there was anything he could do. Through the haze of his own heavy breaths and Felix’s panicked shouts, he heard the click of his gun reloading again, but by the time he opened his eyes, Felix’s hands were already off of him, the young man standing in front of him with his arms outstretched like a shield.

“No!” Felix nearly screamed. From his spot on the ground, half leaned up against the wall, Changbin could see how bad he was shaking. “No, please, don’t kill him, please—”

“Lix,” Changbin rasped, and Felix startled. Changbin tried to pull himself up the wall, but it was impossible to move his leg from the damage, and his hand just left a bloody smear on the wall as it sank back down. “Don’t, don’t do this. Get back.”

The man didn’t even spare Changbin another glance— now that he was out of the way, it seemed like Felix was his only concern. He nodded his head towards the door, gun raised and trained on Felix still. “Come with me,” he ordered calmly.

Felix shook his head frantically, hardly able to catch his breath as he cried. “Please,” he begged senselessly, his knees shaking as he tried to hold himself up as a shield against Changbin. “Please, don’t hurt him—”

The man sighed, slowly lowering the gun, though he didn’t put it away. Felix seemed to calm a bit at that, his trembling lessening if only for a moment. “Come with me and I won’t kill him,” the man offered, and Felix’s eyes widened.

Changbin could see Felix hesitate at the offer, and he felt like his heart had just received the same treatment as his leg. He lurched his upper body forward, pain searing up his leg as he did so, barely managing to grab the back of Felix’s shirt. “No,” he thundered, as best as he could through his teeth. “Felix, you can’t—”

Felix’s voice saying his name cut through him, and Changbin froze. He watched, the world seeming as if it was in slow motion, as Felix carefully pried Changbin’s hand off the back of his shirt, tangling their fingers together instead. He turned around slowly to face Changbin, sinking down into a crouch so they were eye to eye.

Changbin felt like he couldn’t breathe. He’d spent so long looking at Felix, taking in all of his details— the curve of his lips, the freckles dotting his skin, the shadows his eyelashes cast against his cheeks. But still, after all this time, Changbin was still struck by how beautiful Felix was, both on the inside and the outside. Changbin thought everything about him was beautiful, and he’d tear apart the galaxy just to make him smile.

_ Oh god _ , Changbin realized with a start, as Felix took Changbin’s bloody hand in both of his, small fingers wrapped around his palm.  _ Oh god, I’m in love with this boy, and this may be the last time I ever see him. _

“You protected me,” Felix said, his deep voice achingly gentle. His lip quivered as he looked at Changbin, his chest hitching and shaking with every breath. Changbin almost couldn’t bear to look at him, still so beautiful even with tears coating his face, but there was no way he could turn away. “You saved my life… Let me protect you.”

Changbin felt as if he was drowning. His chest heaved on a sob, trying to get himself together as he shook his head. “Felix, you don’t have to—” he choked out, the rest of the sentence catching in his throat. He couldn’t even bear to say it. “What if—”

Changbin’s next words died on his tongue when Felix’s lips touched his cheek.

“I love you,” Felix breathed, so impossibly quiet. “Thank you for everything.”

Before Changbin could process what was happening, Felix had wrenched himself out of Changbin’s grasp, standing up and stepping away before Changbin could grab him again. Changbin shouted, trying to reach out and grab him, but his strength was failing him and he could barely move forward, let alone get up to chase after him. He screamed out Felix’s name, but the boy had already turned away, leaving Changbin watching his back.

Changbin watched in horrified silence as Felix moved towards the man, who trained his gun on Felix’s every step. Once he was close enough, he grabbed Felix, the cold metal of Changbin’s own gun pressed against his temple as his arm wrapped around Felix’s neck. Felix started crying silently, and Changbin began shouting again, incomprehensible, inconsolable at the reality of losing Felix. He struggled on the ground, trying to pull himself up onto his feet, trying to move forward to grab Felix, bring him back, stop this all from happening. Changbin wasn’t naive; he had been in this trade for a while. He knew better than most how smuggling and illegal trade in this galaxy worked. Regardless of how his own career was ruined from all of this, and how no one would ever trust him with any sort of information or employment ever again, there was no way he would be able to find Felix after the boy left his side. He’d be gone without a trace, and Changbin was sick at the thought.

The man didn’t pay Changbin any mind, seeming to be deaf to his shouts and cries. He turned his head to his partner, the young, wiry man that had been silent until now. “Jisung, come on.” The young man— Jisung— looked up at the other’s voice. He was still on the ground from where Changbin hit him— when Changbin looked over, he could see a bruise forming on the side of his head, a small trickle of blood from where Changbin had hid hard enough to break skin. “We have to go.”

Jisung seemed to be shocked at the other man’s words. He looked at Changbin for a moment, and Changbin flinched. “Minho,” Jisung said, his voice quiet as he looked back at the other man. “What about him?”

Minho’s face was stone cold, not betraying any emotion, even in front of Jisung’s questioning and with a shaking, crying Felix in his arms. “We’ll leave him. He can’t come after us,” he explained as if it was obvious.

“But, he—” Jisung began, then shook his head, pressing a hand to his injured temple. He struggled to his feet, stumbling a bit out of dizziness— Changbin had hit him harder than he realized. When he spoke again, his voice was confused, his facial expression matching his tone. “Minho, he’s bleeding so much,” he pointed out, gesturing with a hand to Changbin. “If… If we leave him, he’ll die.”

Finally, some sort of emotion seemed to cross Minho’s face, but Changbin couldn’t place whether it was guilt, or annoyance, or shame, or something else entirely. “If someone finds him, he won’t,” he replied, and maybe it was annoyance. His voice was snappy now, sounding like his patience was being tested. “But we have to get out of here before that happens. Hurry up, we’re going.  _ Now. _ ”

“But Minho, we don’t… We don’t  _ kill _ people, Minho. That’s not how we work.”

Minho was silent.

“We don’t kill people… Right?”

“If you’re not coming now,” Minho muttered, bitter, “then I have to leave without you.”

Jisung looked at Minho for a few moments, then his shoulders trembled, a shaky sob tumbling from him. He turned to Changbin, who looked up at him in surprise, now weak and panting, and stumbled his way over to him. With a harsh tug, the sleeve of his shirt was torn off, the fabric ripped into a thin strip between his hands and teeth. Changbin hissed in pain as Jisung shoved the strip of fabric under his thigh, letting out a shout when the young man tied the ends tightly into a tourniquet. “I’ll help you,” Jisung mumbled, and Changbin watched, stunned, as Jisung tried his best to stop the blood pouring from Changbin’s leg, despite his own wound still trailing blood down his face and tears falling from his eyes. Jisung rubbed at his cheeks hurriedly with the back of his hand, trying to focus. “You’re not gonna die.”

Felix let out a sob, and Changbin looked over again to find the young man sobbing and shaking, mumbling out “thank you”s over and over to Jisung for helping Changbin. Minho, on the other hand, looked shocked and betrayed as he watched Jisung. It took a minute, but eventually his expression shuttered, and his grip on Felix tightened again, the younger man letting out yelp. Changbin yelled out in despair as Minho began to pull Felix, dragging the young man to the door. 

Changbin tried to call out to Felix as he watched the young man sob harder, shaking his entire body with the force, but he felt his limbs growing weaker. He wanted to move, wanted to get up and run after Felix, his leg be damned, but the pain was too much— his head was spinning with it. Changbin called out Felix’s name again and heard Felix call back, but Minho had already pulled Felix, stumbling and sobbing, to the door, his jaw hardened without looking back. Before Minho could open the door, though, the door opened for them— on the other side of the door, a man in uniform stood, his gun raised. 

“Get back inside.”

Minho seemed too shocked about getting caught to try and argue. He stumbled back inside, gun still pressed to a sobbing Felix’s head. The man pressed forward, and behind him, Hyunjin stumbled inside, carrying Jeongin on his back. The mechanic gasped when he caught sight of Changbin, taking an aborted step towards him, but when he looked at the other people in the room he stopped, eyebrows furrowing. His eyes landed on Minho and Felix— the gun in Minho’s hand was still pressed to Felix’s head— something like horror began to dawn on his face, the pieces of the puzzle connecting one by one. Jeongin was glaring at Minho, blood on his face and a bloodied cloth wrapped around his head, and Changbin and Jisung both seemed to realize what had happened at the same time. Changbin watched as Jisung made to cover his mouth with his hands, but when he raised them to his face, he realized they were covered in Changbin’s blood, spilled as a result of Minho’s actions. He gagged, then coughed violently, doubling over next to Changbin as he heaved. 

Another man ran in after, yelling for Felix. Changbin didn’t recognize him, but Felix’s knees gave out at the sound and sight of him, only held up by Minho’s arm around his neck. The man went to run for Felix, but another man with him held him back, a hand on his arm pulling him away from Felix and Minho.

The man in the uniform was locked in a stalemate with Minho, staring him down while Minho stood there in shock, his gun still pressed to Felix’s head. “Minho,” the man barked, and Minho jolted— the whole room seemed to jolt with him, everyone dangerously aware that one wrong move could kill Felix in an instant. “My name is Seungmin Kim, and I am a member of the Intergalactic Investigative Committee,” the man— Seungmin— continued. He nodded to Felix, still sobbing and shaking in Minho’s arms. “I need you to release that man and put down your gun. Now.”

Minho still seemed to be in a state of shock; he stared at Seungmin for a few moments, then glanced over at where Changbin and Jisung were over on the ground. “I didn’t—” he tried to say, then cut himself off, his throat working as he swallowed. He looked at Jisung again, still doubled over, his shoulders shaking as he tried to breathe.

Minho took a deep breath, his body shuddering with it. “Don’t— don’t arrest Jisung,” he said to Seungmin. Beside Changbin, Jisung’s head shot up, his eyes wide. Minho was looking at Seungmin again, gaze tense, imploring. “He didn’t have anything to do with this, I didn’t tell him anything, I just took him along. Don’t arrest him, and I’ll— I’ll put the gun down, just tell me you won’t.”

Seungmin’s jaw seemed to tense for a moment, his eyes flickering over to Jisung and Changbin, before he nodded. “I won’t,” he assured, and Minho seemed to relax, his shoulders drooping. Changbin heard Jisung let out a sob next to him. “Now let him go and put down the gun.”

Minho seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually, his grip loosened and his arms lowered, letting Felix go. Changbin felt a pressure lift off his chest, his eyelids shutting for a moment, as Felix took a shaky step from Minho, sobbing from the relief of being free. When Felix called out, “Chan,” and ran to the man who had come in calling his name, the two of them throwing their arms around each other as Felix sobbed out, Changbin realized that the man was Felix’s brother— not dead as Felix had thought, but very much alive and searching for him.

_ Good _ , Changbin thought to himself, his vision hazy.  _ He’ll have someone to look after him. _

Changbin watched through darkening vision as Minho put his gun on the ground, raising his hands in the air. Seungmin moved forward slowly, then eventually pulled out a pair of cuffs, clasping them around Minho’s wrist. Changbin’s vision went dark for a few moments then; the next thing he opened his eyes to was Felix kneeling on the ground in front of him, his small hands gripping Changbin’s shoulders, his eyes full of tears.

All of the noise seemed to be coming at Changbin through a tunnel, far away and echoed. He picked up bits and pieces— Felix was calling his name, and his brother— Chan— was kneeling on the other side of him, his hands pressing onto the wound on Changbin’s leg. He saw Chan look up and say something to the man who had come in with him— Changbin caught the name Woojin— but everything else was murky, difficult to understand. He heard someone else crying, further away, and Hyunjin’s voice yelling, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying, just the desperate, lilting volume and pitch of it. He looked at Felix again, and realized that Felix had taken one of Changbin’s hands in his; he hadn’t even felt it. The last thing he saw was Felix’s smiling face before his vision swam, then went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more art for this chapter [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xEpnMp9zjCcHwy-EXvTbRMSg3XN3OB08/view?usp=sharing) and [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jmTrm8R2YNg847prfhSGcZ5gtmalWoiF/view?usp=sharing). once again, thank you to my wonderful artist for making this!!!
> 
> are you ready for the end?


	6. epilogue

Jisung’s leg bounced as he sat on the cold, metal stool in the office. Everything about his life felt wrong recently— nothing had been as he was used to it. Jisung had thought he was adaptable after his years of travelling, fitting into whatever environment he was surrounded by, but the past few days had felt like the worst days of his life. He’d hardly slept, hardly ate; even the most basic things seemed impossible without Minho by his side.

Their ship had been confiscated. Jisung had helped the authorities find where they had left it, parked on the outskirts of the Lower Capital like always. They’d taken everything inside as well, every bit of Jisung and Minho’s lives now under investigation. At least Jisung had been able to grab some of his clothes from inside, after they were thoroughly inspected by the officers who came with him to the ship. He’d had no place to stay— Jeongin was in the hospital, not that he had space anyways, and Hyunjin’s place was now a crime scene, not that Jisung thought Hyunjin would even let him in there after what happened— so he’d used some money from his and Minho’s joint account to rent a room, nothing more than a bed and a dresser, to stay in. It wasn’t luxury, but Jisung knew he was already lucky to be able to walk around freely, when Minho was being held for the duration of the investigation.

They hadn’t let the two of them see each other at first. They wanted to make sure that they could corroborate their stories, the officers had explained to Minho, that their statements and the evidence matched up. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or furious with Minho for lying to him and keeping secrets; he knew that, in a terribly misguided way, Minho had only wanted to protect him, but Jisung didn’t want to be protected. Jisung didn’t need Minho to keep him safe. They were partners. He knew things would get dangerous, but Jisung wanted to do them anyway. He wanted to do them with Minho— he wanted to do them because they were with Minho.

Now, though, the jig was up. They couldn’t go back to the life they used to lead. Their names were on record now, and they wouldn’t be able to slip under the radar of the law like before. And failing at a job this bad had most definitely put their names on the blacklist for getting hired; they’d never get for any sort of work again. So that was the end of the life Jisung and Minho had led. Jisung couldn’t tell whether he was sad or relieved. 

He looked up when he heard the heavy  _ thunk _ of a door being unlocked, and then the door on the other side of the office swung open. Through the glass pane dividing the half of the room, Jisung saw Minho enter, a guard following behind him, and it felt like the world had stopped.

Minho looked the same. It had only been a few days, not even a week, so Jisung knew that there was no way the other man could have changed that much, but after spending every minute together with Minho over the past two years, every second apart felt like it was eternity. But Minho looked the same, albeit a bit tired and worn down, no doubt having sat through hours of interviews, questioning, examination. When he sat down on the identical stool across from Jisung’s, the pane of glass between them, Minho gave him a sad sort of smile. Jisung felt his heart shatter.

Jisung was crying before he knew what was happening, feeling like his chest was caving in. Across from him, he saw the pain reflected on Minho’s face; the other man reached out and placed a hand against the glass between them, and Jisung pressed his hand against it desperately, as if he could somehow reach Minho through it if he pressed hard enough. He felt so full and empty all at once, and it was only Minho’s quiet, steady murmuring of Jisung’s name, over and over, that kept him from falling apart.

“Jisung,” Minho murmured again, once Jisung had caught his breath. Jisung felt freezing all over, like something had gone and sucked any trace of warmth out of his body, leaving him shaking so hard it felt like his entire body was rattling. “Jisung, I’m sorry.”

Jisung shook his head, trying to catch his breath. He knew he must look a mess, hunched over in the stool, tears racing down his face, but he couldn’t get himself together. He couldn’t face Minho, smiling at Jisung like they were saying goodbye— not after everything they’ve done. Not after everything they’ve been through. “Why,” was all Jisung could manage to choke out. His brain and mouth felt disjointed, like everything was tumbling in his head, unable to form the words to be able to speak. “Why? Minho, why?”

Minho was still trying to smile— this terrible, painful, regretful thing that Jisung couldn’t even look at without feeling like he was being ripped apart. “I didn’t want you to know how bad it was,” he explained, gentle, quiet. Jisung couldn’t take it. “I wanted to keep you out of it, if I could. I knew it was bad. I knew it was wrong. I just didn’t want to take you down with me.”

“Why— why did you do it then?” Jisung asked, finally managing to pick his head up. Minho hadn’t looked away; he was looking at Jisung, right at him, forcing himself to watch the breakdown. “You knew it was wrong, so— so why…”

Jisung watched Minho’s throat work as he swallowed, his gaze falling from Jisung for a moment before he looked up at him again. “They told me they knew who killed my mother,” he answered ruefully. “They said if I did this for them, they could lead me to who killed her.”

Jisung took in a sniffling breath. “And you believed them?” he asked, the words coming out more harshly than he intended; Minho flinched at them, and Jisung hurried to take them back. “Sorry,” he gasped out, pressing his other hand against the glass— Minho lifted his other palm to press against Jisung’s, a mirror image. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you’re right,” Minho murmured, shaking his head. Jisung ached. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have believed them without any proof, and I shouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t… If I didn’t, Jisung, I would have…”

Jisung swallowed, feeling like a pit of a peach was caught in his throat. “You would have regretted it,” he finished, and Minho nodded. Jisung understood. He’d spent enough time with Minho to know how much this affected him, how his mother’s death hung over his head in every decision he made. If Jisung had known his parents at all, he thought he would have done the same thing.

But the past couldn’t change. No matter how much they wanted, they could never have what they had lost again. Jisung would never regain his parents, would never regain his childhood. The marks on his body from all that he’d done would never go away, and that was something Jisung had learned to accept. And Minho, even with how much he struggled, how much he fought with it, could never get his mother back. He could find out what happened, but the outcome would stay the same— Minho’s mother would still be dead, and all he and Jisung would have is each other.

At the end of the day, it was still just them. 

“Jisung,” Minho said suddenly, and Jisung startled, blinking up at Minho. The other man was still smiling, and something inside Jisung lurched when he noticed that Minho’s eyes were glassy, shining with unshed tears that he was trying to hold back. “Let’s stop.”

Jisung felt like his heart stopped when Minho spoke. He could hear blood rushing in his ears, feel the cold of the glass his hands were pressed to, but everything else seemed to fall away. “Stop?” he managed, the word hardly more than a breath. “Stop what?”

“The bounty hunting,” Minho began, and Jisung felt his heart lift. A light grew inside his chest with every word that Minho spoke, spreading through him. “The stealing. The fighting. Flying around without a home. Spending our entire lives on the job. Let’s stop, Jisung. When I’m out, we’ll stop. We can’t go back anyways, so let’s stop.”

Jisung knew he was smiling, but seeing it reflected on Minho’s own face, growing with every second, was enthralling. “We can still look,” he assured Minho, and the grateful and tender way Minho looked at him made Jisung’s heart squeeze. He wanted to break through the glass just to grab Minho in his arms, hold onto him tight and never let him go. “We don’t have to give up if you don’t want to.”

Minho didn’t give an answer— just looked at Jisung, beaming, his fingers curling against the glass. “We’ll figure it out later,” he assured Jisung, and Jisung felt like crying again for an entirely different reason. He felt like he could fly. “When this is all done, we can figure it out. Just— we’ll do it together, okay? Whatever you want.”

Jisung couldn’t help but laugh, watery and warm. He moved closer to the glass, until his knees bumped into the panel, just so he could look a bit closer at Minho. “Can we get hot pot?” he asked, and Minho’s eyes widened before he burst into laughter, his head tipping back with it.

“Of course,” he promised once his laughter had dimmed down. Minho was beautiful, radiant, everything Jisung ever needed. Their palms warmed the glass between them. “Of course, Jisung, whatever you want.”

* * *

Woojin enjoyed the comfortable silence swathing him and Chan, the two of them seated on the balcony of their shared suite. After all that they’d been through, Woojin figured they could use the fresh air— he’d used his title and status to get them a hotel suite with a view, not so high up that the air was too thin to go outside, but high enough that most of the noise from the hustle and bustle of the Capital failed to reach them. The air wasn’t great no matter where you were in the Capital, but it was good enough for now. Peace and quiet had been hard to come by these past few days, and a bit of time outside could do them both good.

Woojin looked at Chan, the other man watching the sunset, and he couldn’t help but smile. His reunion with Felix had been an emotional one, the two of them clinging to each other and sobbing until their entire bodies ached from it. But it was clear that, despite how exhausting these past few days had been for a variety of reasons, Chan was doing much better than he had been. Felix had been preoccupied in the hospital with Changbin— Chan had spent their first night reunited right alongside him, sleeping in a chair next to Felix at Changbin’s bedside— but the amount of relief Chan received just from knowing that his brother was alive, that he wasn’t alone in the universe anymore, was palpable. Chan smiled easier, laughed easier; he slept well, ate well, was able to actually go about his day without being crippled by the feeling of not knowing. And it was beautiful for Woojin to watch the person he had spent the last couple of weeks with bloom into the person he was supposed to be, not the traumatized, haunted shell that Woojin had known him as. 

The prince watched as Chan took a sip of his beer— the same shitty convenience store beer they had drank last time, except now, it was Chan’s treat. He glanced over at Woojin, grinning when he caught the prince staring. Woojin watched in delight as Chan laughed, the other man’s ears growing red. “What?” Chan asked through sheepish chuckles, and Woojin just grinned with a shrug.

“It’s just nice to see you happy,” Woojin admitted honestly, just to see how much more flustered it would make Chan. He wasn’t let down— the other man let out another bout of laughter, high pitched, his body swaying away from Woojin. “It’s true!” Woojin defended as Chan waved a hand in the air between them, drawling out “No, no~” exaggeratedly.

The two of them lapsed into silence again after that, the muted murmurs of the city below them filtering up every so often. The sun continued its steady descent below the horizon, touching the tops of buildings. It was getting cooler, now, as it tended to do at night on the Capital— they would have to make their way inside soon.

But first, there was something Woojin needed to know. “Chan,” he began quietly, looking at the man when Chan turned his gaze to him. The redness had faded from Chan’s ears, but the hint of a smile still played on the corner of his mouth. “Where do you think you’ll go after this?”

Chan hesitated for a moment, and Woojin almost regretted bringing up the question. Yes, Chan had Felix now, but there was still the unavoidable truth of what had happened to the rest of Chan’s family, his friends, his home. Chan didn’t give the prince time to regret though— he shrugged his shoulders fairly quickly, looking back out over the city. “I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted easily, shifting the can of beer from one hand to the other. “Probably wherever Felix wants to go. I know he’s an adult, and he can take care of himself, but after what happened, I just want to stay with him for a while, you know?”

Woojin let out a hum, nodding in understanding— he would have been surprised if Chan hadn’t wanted to stay with Felix. After thinking Felix may have been dead for so long, and all the time and energy Chan had put into hoping to find him, it made sense for them to stay together. “I’m asking because,” Woojin said after taking a sip of his beer, putting the can down on the floor next to him, “I was wondering if you two wanted to come with me.”

That seemed to take Chan by surprise; he turned to look at Woojin with wide eyes, blinking owlishly at the prince for a moment. “Like, to visit?”

Woojin let out a laugh, shaking his head. “No,” he said gently, “like to live.”

Chan stared at Woojin in silence for a few moments, seeming to be turning the idea around in his head. Woojin let him have his time. This was a big decision, no doubt about it. “I’ll have to ask Felix,” Chan said eventually, and the prince nodded— he hadn’t really been expecting an answer right away, anyways. Woojin leaned down to grab his beer again, but hesitated when Chan continued. “But,” he added, and Woojin looked over— Chan was looking out at the horizon again, a soft smile on his lips. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

Woojin smiled, slowly straightening up with his beer in his hand. Chan glanced at him, and when he saw Woojin’s smile, his own smile grew even wider. Woojin took a swig of his beer, and Chan followed with a long, slow slip.

“Cool,” Woojin said casually, and when Chan nearly choked on his beer from laughing, the prince just patted him on the back with a laugh.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin murmured quietly into his palms. He couldn’t bear to lift his head up, shame weighing him down. This was his fault. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He picked his head up when he heard a groan, finding Jeongin rolling his eyes at him. “For the last time, stop apologizing,” he complained, sounding in good spirits despite the bandages wrapped around his head. In the dim lighting of Jeongin’s hospital room, Hyunjin could see where a bit of Jeongin’s red hair peeked out from the top of the bandages, black roots beginning to show. “I’m  _ fine _ . You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’ve got a concussion,” Hyunjin lamented, guilt swallowing his insides. Jeongin was just looking at him tiredly, clearly unimpressed. “You’re in the hospital in a dark room and you’ve got stitches in your head and I feel terrible about it.”

“Hyunjin, I don’t even remember how it happened,” Jeongin reminded, wincing when Hyunjin interjected with  _ that’s the problem!  _ “Okay, you need to shut up, otherwise  _ you’re _ going to be the one in the hospital with a concussion,” he warned, and Hyunjin immediately shut his mouth.

In Hyunjin’s defence, he had tried to convince Jeongin to go to the hospital as soon as the younger man had begun to wake up. But the more consciousness Jeongin regained, the less of Hyunjin’s logic he had wanted to listen to, instead insisting that Hyunjin bring him along when the mechanic went to find out what was going on with Felix and Changbin. Even when Jeongin had hardly been able to stand, he had still demanded that Hyunjin bring him along, and Hyunjin hadn’t been able to leave him. So he’d grabbed whatever cloth he could find— a cloth from Jeongin’s bathroom had been nearest— wrapped up his head, and ran across the Lower Capital with the younger man. Seungmin had looked like he was going to hit Hyunjin for the stupid decision when Hyunjin ran into him near his apartment, but there had been no time to explain or argue.

Seungmin hadn’t ended up giving Hyunjin shit for it— rather, Seungmin hadn’t given Hyunjin much of anything since Hyunjin last saw him when everything had gone down. He hadn’t answered any of Hyunjin’s texts or calls, and they hadn’t run into each other yet either, though considering how big the Capital was, that wasn’t necessarily a surprise to Hyunjin. At first, though, Hyunjin had thought Seungmin was just busy, and that was why he hadn’t been answering. But then one day turned into two, turned into three, and Hyunjin finally figured it out. Seungmin was ignoring him. And as much as it hurt Hyunjin to admit, he kind of deserved it. 

At least Jeongin was well enough to start receiving visitors in the hospital again, though it was only for limited periods of time and they couldn’t do anything physically or mentally strenuous. With the apartment empty of Changbin and Felix, plus Seungmin ignoring him, Hyunjin had felt spectacularly lonely. He’d take Jeongin’s threats of gross physical injury over the silence of his home any day.

Hyunjin straightened up in his chair when he heard the door to Jeongin’s room open behind him. He sighed as he stood up, getting ready to leave— he’d known that a twenty minute visit would be short, but he hadn’t expected it to feel that fast. Hyunjin turned to tell whoever entered that he would be leaving, but froze when, instead of a nurse or a doctor standing in the doorway, Hyunjin saw Seungmin.

Whatever words Hyunjin had been trying to say died in his throat. Seungmin looked— tired, if he was being honest, the dark circles under his eyes poorly obscured by the glasses on Seungmin’s face. Still, though, the other man looked put together enough, with his hair combed and his work uniform neat. He didn’t look surprised to see Hyunjin— although, Hyunjin realized, his heart sinking, Seungmin didn’t look at him much at all, making his way over to Jeongin’s bedside.

“I’m here to interview Jeongin Yang,” Seungmin said, more to the room at large rather than Hyunjin specifically, even though there were only the three of them in there. When Hyunjin didn’t move or say anything, Seungmin finally looked at him, his expression carefully blank. Hyunjin wanted to cry.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin managed after a moment, when none of them said anything. “Can I talk to you?”

Seungmin seemed reluctant, his gaze drifting from Hyunjin to Jeongin then back again. Jeongin, thankfully, seemed unbothered by the situation, and waved the two of them away. “Go, go,” he encouraged, flashing Hyunjin a small, supportive smile. “I’m definitely not going anywhere, so take your time.”

Hyunjin looked at Seungmin again, pleading, and eventually Seungmin let out a sigh, making his way back to the door. Hyunjin followed after him, out of Jeongin’s room and down the halls of the hospital until they reached a waiting room that was empty save for the two of them.

The words tumbled out of Hyunjin’s mouth before Seungmin had even closed the door. “I’m sorry,” he said desperately, nearly sobbing them out. He felt so guilty even looking at Seungmin, knowing he’d kept something so big from Seungmin willingly, knowing he’d inadvertently had a hand in all of the wrongs that had befallen people like Jeongin and Changbin, knowing he’d made Seungmin’s life so much harder by not telling him what he knew. “I’m sorry, Seungmin, I’m so  _ fucking _ sorry,  _ god _ —”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Seungmin interrupted briskly. Hyunjin’s breath caught; Seungmin was just watching him, carefully stoic. “You knew. You knew this whole time, since before I even left. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think— I didn’t think it’d get this bad,” Hyunjin stammered out. Vaguely, he realized he was shaking. “I didn’t think they’d ever get found out. I thought that we could just wait it out, and things would be safe eventually, and I could tell you then. I didn’t think any of this stuff would happen, to— to anyone. I thought I could handle it. I thought it would be okay. I…” Hyunjin trailed off when Seungmin didn’t react, still standing by the door with his arms crossed.

“I don’t know what I thought would happen,” Hyunjin finished weakly, fighting back the tears he could feel coming, that annoying, prickly sensation in his nose and eyes. He let out a rueful laugh, tipping his head to the side and rubbing his face. “All I know is that I was stupid, and wrong,” he mumbled, his voice cottony, “and I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Seungmin didn’t say anything. Were it not for the fact that the door was closed and Hyunjin would hear it if it opened, Hyunjin would have thought Seungmin left. But eventually, Seungmin let out a long, tired sigh, and Hyunjin picked his head up to see Seungmin taking his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose where they had rested previously.

“I know you meant well,” Seungmin assured quietly. Hyunjin waited for the  _ but _ . “I know you didn’t want anyone to get hurt— that’s why you did this. But I don’t know how I can trust you after you kept something so huge from me, even after I specifically asked you to tell me if you heard anything about what was going on.” Seungmin shrugged, a slow movement of his shoulders, and put his glasses back on. “I don’t know what to do, Hyunjin,” he admitted, and finally, there was some trace of emotion on Seungmin’s face. Hyunjin was forced to confront the hurt he had caused, all of it held in Seungmin’s eyes. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

Hyunjin swallowed his pride, swallowed his need to defend his actions once more. No matter what he said now, it wouldn’t change anything— his actions were his actions, and he needed to deal with the ramifications. All he could do was move forward. “Let me show you,” Hyunjin offered, quiet, begging. “Let me prove to you that you can trust me again. Give me a chance to make things right between us. No secrets, no games. No— no finding me in a bar again because I was stupid and didn’t give you my number the first time.” He let out a breathy laugh, feeling some of the darkness in his chest dispersing when the corners of Seungmin’s lips twitched up at that. “None of that bullshit,” Hyunjin continued quietly. He wanted to reach out and take Seungmin’s hands so badly, never let him go. “I just want you.”

Seungmin was silent again, for a long while, but Hyunjin didn’t look away. He wanted Seungmin to see that he meant it, that he really, genuinely wanted to make things right. It took a few minutes, but finally, Seungmin spoke. 

“I can’t say I’ll forgive you right away,” Seungmin explained, and though it hurt, Hyunjin held it in. He knew he needed to hear that. “I can’t say I’ll trust you right away either. But I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Seungmin shook his head, taking a deep breath, and Hyunjin waited anxiously for his next words. “But… I’ll do it,” Seungmin finished, then let out chuckle, a bit of the tension fading from him. “I’ll give you a shot.”

Hyunjin felt like light poured from him at Seungmin’s words. He couldn’t hide his happiness and relief— he was smiling like an idiot, he knew, but it was only to stop himself from crying. Seungmin was smiling back at him, tired yet fond, and Hyunjin stepped forward uncertainly, asking permission. When Seungmin didn’t move away, Hyunjin moved forwards again, shortening the distance between until their mouths met.

He didn’t realize he had started crying until Seungmin pulled away to wipe at their faces, Hyunjin’s tears having fallen on Seungmin’s face as well as his own. “Please don’t cry when you’re kissing me, it kills my ego,” Seungmin complained, but when Hyunjin let out a watery laugh and clung onto him, Seungmin wrapped his arms around him anyway.

* * *

Changbin wasn’t sure where he was when he first woke up. 

His memory came back to him in bits and pieces, like a CD skipping. Felix in the kitchen, smiling at Changbin as he cooked. The door to Hyunjin’s apartment slamming open. Felix’s back pressed to his, sandwiched between Changbin and the wall— then Felix’s hands in his, gripping each other tightly, their fingers slick with blood. Blood— Changbin’s blood, blood bursting from his leg, oh god, his leg—

When Changbin opened his eyes, Felix was standing over him, a star, the sun.

“Changbin?” he asked quietly. His voice quivered. God, Felix was so beautiful. “Are you awake?”

Changbin couldn’t find the words to say what he was feeling— he’d never been too good with that anyways. He tried to come up with them for a few moments, but Felix’s eyes were sparkling, wet with tears, and Changbin settled for reaching up to pull Felix into a kiss.

He realized after it happened that he probably should have talked with Felix about it first. At the very least, he should have waited until he was a bit more coherent to kiss Felix. But Felix was there, and Felix was beautiful, and they were both awake and okay and  _ alive _ , thank god, so Changbin had just gone for it. Thankfully, it seemed like the right thing to do— after the initial shock had worn off, Felix had let out a quiet, desperate noise against Changbin’s lips, then kissed Changbin so hard he knew their lips would be bruised later, his hands tangling in Changbin’s hair.

When they finally pulled apart, Felix was gasping, out of breath. The tears finally began to run down his face, and Changbin’s hands moved to catch every single one of them. “Changbin— you—” he gasped out, and Changbin hushed him as Felix began to sob, his entire body shaking with them. “I thought— I was so scared, Changbin, I thought… I thought you’d…”

“It’s okay,” Changbin assured him, his voice rough from disuse. He pulled Felix in close again, wrapping his arms around Felix’s body; Felix’s small hands moved to Changbin’s shoulders, his fingers clenching in the fabric of Changbin’s hospital gown. “I’m here now. Felix, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re here,” Felix sobbed in return, and Changbin nodded, smoothing his hands along Felix’s back. The angle was awkward, Felix standing hunched over Changbin’s hospital bed, but it didn’t matter. Felix was in his arms, and that was enough. “You’re here, Changbin, and I love you. God,  _ fuck _ — I love you, Changbin, please don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Changbin promised, whispered against the side of Felix’s face, his lips brushing Felix’s cheek. Felix turned his head so their lips met again, breathing each other in. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

There was so much to talk about. Changbin’s leg was still injured, Felix still had no home, and things had been changed between them forever. But the universe could wait for them, now. For now, the two of them holding onto each other, warm and steady in each others’ arms, was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> now that this is revealed, find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/nappeuns_)
> 
> i really cannot believe i wrote this. for six years, this idea lived in my head and in scrawled out notebooks, and finally, it's out in the worlds. thank you to the mods of this fest for letting it happen.
> 
> thank you to my wonderful artist [julia](https://twitter.com/mintsushii) for helping to bring such a poignant scene to life. i know i wasn't the best at communication, but you were truly a pleasure to work with. i'm so grateful you liked my fic enough to put the time in making something for it! everyone, please go give julia lots of love!
> 
> an absolutely massive thank you to jei. you really hard carried my ass from start to finish of me writing this monster, and i couldn't be more grateful for you, not just for helping me through this fic, but for always encouraging me and supporting me in whatever content i create. i am your biggest fan and i love you so freaking much, mom. for real.
> 
> thank you to my kids, ted, daniel, ika and leo for listening to me gripe over this fic for months, but especially this last month. y'all are so patient and caring with me and i know my repressed ass doesn't always say it enough, but i love you all like crazy. thank you to all of my other friends who have been following me and supporting me on this crazy journey for not blocking my ass whenever i would complain. i wouldn't have been able to do it without any of you.
> 
> finally, if you made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading. this is the longest thing i have ever written, and i don't know if i will ever write something quite this ambitiously long again, but what an adventure it was. if you've seen it through to the end with me and enjoyed it any piece of it, then thank you. i am so grateful that you decided to share this part of the universe with me.
> 
> really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading.


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